


La Nouvelle Fille

by aminal24



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo, New Girl
Genre: Banter, Developing Relationship, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Mild Language, Roommates, Sitcom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:28:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 46
Words: 126,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23240242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aminal24/pseuds/aminal24
Summary: Inspired by the TV show New Girl. Eponine is in search of a new place to live after a nasty breakup. She stumbles upon three weird friends that are in search of a roomie. What follows is a whole lot of chaotic yet humorous antics.
Relationships: Enjolras/Éponine Thénardier
Comments: 54
Kudos: 41





	1. Who's that Girl?

**Author's Note:**

> Again, this is a play on the TV show New Girl. If you haven't watched it, please go do it immediately. I started writing this a while ago, but just rediscovered it. Hope you like it!

“I sing to myself a lot,” The new girl said, sitting on a chair across from the three roommates. “I’m also a teacher, so I bring home a lot of popsicle sticks and art project type things. Um, I don’t take up a lot of time in the bathroom so you guys don’t have to worry about that. See, I’m just trying to find a place to live because I recently broke up with my long-term boyfriend, Montparnasse. Yeah, he cheated on me with some skank of a girl…” After realizing that she trailed off mid-sentence, she shook her head and quickly brought herself back to the now. “I’m sorry. What was the question again?” 

All three of the men looked at each other and then back at her. The one with the curly black hair answered, “What was your name?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m Eponine Thernadier. Sorry, it’s just that ever since my break up with Montparnasse, things have just been crazy. So, I can’t stay with him for obvious reasons and I would stay with my friends, but their all models and there’s like this stupid rule against non-models live with them or whatever.”

One of them seemed to perk up when she said the word “models”. “Would you excuse for a second?” He asked, pushing them all into the bathroom.

“Enjolras, we have got to let this chick stay here.” Courfeyrac pleaded the blonde man once they were safely locked inside the bathroom. Among the three roommates, he was the flirtiest and most charismatic. Every other night, he brought a girl home, although it was highly unusual to see the same girl twice. If you asked him, Courfeyrac would say that it’s his winning smile and baby green eyes, that shone underneath his brown curly hair. But in reality, it was probably just his confidence and excessive use of conditioner.

“No, are you kidding?” Enjolras shook his head. He was the logical and arguably the most sane of the three. He was a lawyer and a workaholic, and because of it, he was a bit antisocial. Not to say that he never went out every once in a while. As far as girls go, it was pretty one-sided. It wasn’t a surprise if a girl hit on him. After all, with his wavy blonde hair, crystal blue eyes, a charming smile, and a jawline that could chisel through stone, he was a very handsome man. But Enjolras wasn’t interested in chasing after girls. Usually. Partly because he was always so focused on his law practice and partly because he himself had just recently broken up with his long-term girlfriend, Amelie, a few months ago. “What ever happened to that ‘bachelor pad’ that you worked so hard to create? Having a female around here is just going to be weird.”

“I agree, though, I do not agree with using the term, ‘female’ when referring to women,” Grantaire spoke in his usual drunken slur. “When I get home from a long night of working, I just wanna rip my pants off, let the boys breathe, and watch shit TV. And that can’t really happen with a chick walking around.” Grantaire was a bartender. Originally, he had been in law school with Enjolras, where the two of them met and became friends, but chose to drop out and open a bar instead. There wasn’t a time when the crazy haired man was a hundred percent sober, which annoyed Enjolras to no end. When mentioning his crazy hair, it always seemed to have a bed-head sort of look. He always wore comfy jeans and t-shirts or hoodies. A complete opposite of what he would have been in the corporate law world, which is where Enjolras would like him to be.

“I’m sorry, did you not hear that she has models for friends?” Courfeyrac argued. “Imagine the amount of action we can get if she ever decided to have a slumber party. I’m talking topless pillow fights, dancing to pop music, the works.”

His two roommates grimaced and rolled their eyes. “Come on, man. 10 bucks in the jar.” Grantaire moaned. “The jar” refers to the “Douchebag jar” that the three roommates had set up a while ago. It was in an effort to try and keep Courfeyrac under control. But really, there was no stopping him sometimes.

“But you see my point, right?” Courfeyrac said. “Enjolras, you could finally move on from that bitch, Amelie, and get in that instead.”

“Courf!” The two men took turns punching their roommate in the arm.

“Dude, I’m going to need you to talk less for at least ten minutes.” Grantaire scolded.

“I’m voting no.” Enjolras said, shaking his head. “Don’t you think it’s weird for a female to live with three guys?”

“Please stop saying ‘female’.” Grantaire pleaded.

“That just sounds like a typical Saturday night to me.” Courfeyrac smiled off into the distance.

“And that’s another ten.” Enjolras said.

“Dammit!” He then turned to Grantaire. “What do you say, R? Can she stay?”

The floppy haired man shoved his hands in his pockets and considered the situation. “I don’t know, man. Why don’t we just test it out for a couple of days? See if it’s a good fit or not and then we can decide from there.”

“That’s… a surprisingly good idea, Grantaire,” Enjolras remarked in surprise.

The man shrugged. “Hey, I’m full of good ideas, but you guys just don’t ever listen.”

“So, she can stay?” Courfeyrac asked excitedly.

“For now.” Enjolras conceded.

“Yay! I can stay!” A voice cheered on the other side of the bathroom door. All three men looked at the door before opening it, revealing Eponine standing there. It was clear that she had been listening to the whole conversation. “Hey, guys.” She said super nonchalantly. “Totally wasn’t listening to that whole… thing. But I can stay?”

“Just on a trial basis to start out with.” Enjolras started to explain, but was abruptly cut off by Eponine letting out an excited squeal.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She threw her arms around his neck. The blonde stiffened slightly and looked to his friends as if to silently ask his friends for help.

“Yay, roomies!” Courfeyrac jumped up and down and threw his arms around the two of them.

Graintaire sighed heavily. “I’m not drunk enough for this.” He muttered as he got in on the group hug.

Enjolras stared up at the ceiling to express his annoyance. This was going to be very interesting


	2. Break Up

For the next five days, Eponine was laying on the couch, watching the Sound of Music over and over again. Not an exaggeration. Once the credits rolled, she would hit the menu button and take it back to the beginning. It was summer vacation so she didn’t have school to worry about. So she just sat on the couch, watching the Sound of Music over and over again, moping about Montparnasse.

Most girls after a break up drown themselves in ice cream and cry their eyes out, with their mascara running down their face. But not Eponine. She was solid like a statue, refusing to cry, refusing to communicate with anything other than the television screen.

Eponine was not like most girls. She much tougher than she looked. Part of that could be attributed to rough upbringing. Her parents were the neighborhood drug dealers, meaning that if they were around, they were high as kites. Because of this, she had to learn how to take care of herself and her siblings at an early age. In fact, she felt as though she was the true mother to her siblings. Her little sister, Azelma, was just finishing up her college degree in fashion. Her little brother, Gavroche, was more difficult to deal with. He fell in with the wrong crowd and when he turned 17, he ran off to live with his girlfriend at the time. They hadn’t heard from him since.

“Eponine, what are you doing?” Grantaire asked, pulling her out of her self-pity. The guys had reached their breaking point. The Sound of Music was a fine enough film, but hearing the same songs over and over again was getting very old. They had been deliberating for the past couple of hours who was going to intervene and try and end their suffering.

“The Sound of Music is the best thing ever to exist,” She said in an almost monotone way. “How is it possible that Julie Andrews is so damn perfect? Bartender, I’ll have whatever she’s having.”

Grantaire decided to ignore the last statement and carefully took a seat on the L-shaped couch. “Ep, you’ve been watching this movie for days now. Don’t you think you ought to try… at least a different movie?”

“No other movie gives me joy like the Sound of Music!” She snapped, flopping her head into a throw pillow.

Grantaire glanced back in the hall, where his other two roommates were hiding. They peeked their heads out and signaled for him to keep going. The bartender took a sip from the beer in his hand, as if the answer was somehow hidden at the bottom of the bottle. But as he did, he got an idea. “How about a cold one to help clear your troubles away?” He asked holding the bottle out to her.

“Okay, no.” Enjolras couldn’t take it anymore and stepped into the living room. “We are not solving our problems by drinking alcohol, Grantaire,” He swiped the bottle out his friend’s hand, and motioned for him to get lost. He didn’t have to be told twice, for he practically leapt into the hall where Courfeyrac was.

Enjolras looked at the beer bottle in his hand and down at the girl laying on his couch and now singing “My Favorite Things” rather badly into a pillow. That moment was one of the few moments in his life where he felt the need to drink alcohol. Not that he never drank; it’s just that he generally chose not to most of the time. If Enjolras was known for one thing, it was his way with the ladies. In other words, he had no way with the ladies. He was more awkward around them than a hormonal teenager. “Hello, Eponine.” He started slowly.

“Hello, Monsieur Enjolras.” She said, lifting her head slightly and speaking in a terrible French accent. “Will you pass that bottle this way, s’il vous plait?”

“No.” He shook his head sternly. “Now, stop this nonsense right now, Eponine. You are a grown woman and sitting her drowning your sorrows in booze and musicals is not a way of life.”

Her face became hard with anger. Enjolras hardly knew her, but somehow he knew he was in for it. Luckily, Courfeyrac stepped in to save the day. “Eponine!” He greeted her cheerfully, as he literally shoved Enjolras away. “Hi, honey. How are you feeling?” He asked, taking a seat next to Eponine and lacing his voice with concern.

“What’s it to you?” She snapped, pulling her legs up and hugging them to her chest.

“Oh, come on. Are you still hung up on this Parnette guy?”

“Montparnasse.”

“Whatever. Ep, he doesn’t deserve your tears. That guy is a selfish stupid jerk, and you should be glad you are rid of him. He was the one who cheated on you, hon. And you don’t deserve to be lying around here feeling sorry for yourself.” Eponine glanced at Courfeyrac, listening intently. Enjolras and Grantaire watched in awe as they watched their roommate try to console her. “You know what you need? A night out.”

“No!” She shook her head. “I don’t wanna go anywhere.”

“Ponine, look at yourself.” Courfeyrac gestured to her messy and dirty appearance. “You are a beautiful and intelligent woman, but right now, you look like you just crawled out a cave you’ve been trapped in for two years. And we’re not going to meet other guys. We’re going to forget about that last guy. So, go and make yourself look pretty and we’ll go party until the sun comes up.”

Eponine considered his words for a minute and the reached for the remote to shut off the TV. “You’re right, Courf. Parnasse doesn’t deserve my tears. I don’t deserve this.” She said standing up. “I deserve to give my love to someone who actually deserves it. Get ready, boys, because tonight we’re going to party our asses off.” And with that, she disappeared into the bathroom to shower.

Courfeyrac leaned back on the couch egotistically as his roommates stared at him utterly in shock. “And that, my dear friends, is how you talk to the ladies.”

>>>

“STREEEEET LIGHTS AND PEEEEEOOOOOOPPPLLLEEEEEEE!” Eponine sang obnoxiously at the top of her lungs. The night had gone well, as it did help Eponine forget about Montparnasse. But it started going downhill after Eponine’s fifth shot. This wasn’t a problem to Courfeyrac or Grantaire because they were getting quite drunk as well, but to Enjolras, the self-appointed designated driver of the night, it was all one big headache.

Currently, Courfeyrac was at the bar, making out with some blonde girl, while Grantaire and Eponine were singing along to Journey’s classic song, “Don’t Stop Believin’”.

“You guys are drunk,” Enjolras told them disapprovingly.

“Oh, come on, Enjy,” Eponine whined, resting her head on his shoulder. “You’re no fun.”

“Don’t call me that.” He deadpanned.

“That’s the Marble Man for ya,” Grantaire said too loudly. “You should have seen in law school. He had an even bigger stick up his ass.”

“That’s not even possible,” Eponine waved it off. “He already has this ginormous stick in his ass. Any bigger and he’d be a friggin’ tree.”

“I’m sitting right here, you know.” He said gruffly, shrugging Eponine’s head off his shoulder.

“Whatever, man. I’m going to go take a leak. No flirting you two.” Grantaire then stumbled his was to the bathroom.

“I’m so happy right now.” Eponine announced, after downing another shot. “Are you happy?” She asked the blonde man next to her. Her breath reeked of liquor.

“Sure, but I think you’ve had enough shots for tonight.” Enjolras said, taking the little cups away.

“I will do what I want, assface!” She yelled, reaching for the cups but missing terribly.

“Yeah, I think it’s time to bring you home now.” He caught her from falling forward and stood up to further his point. Somehow, she gained her bearings, grabbed a hold of his shirt collar and pushed him down in the stool he was sitting in. Then, she swung a leg over his lap so she now straddled him.

“I don’t wanna go just yet.” She whispered in his ear seductively. Her fingers fumbled for the buttons on his shirt, but he grabbed onto her wrists.

“Eponine, don’t” He warned, his icy blue eyes locked on her blurred brown eyes. He would be lying if he said that his heart didn’t skip a beat under her touch.

“Come on, Enjolras. Don’t be a spoil-sport.” She pouted her bottom lip, and leaned forward so she could place sloppy and drunken kisses along his neck.

Enjolras had to force himself not to feel aroused. But the smell of her hair, the feel of her soft lips on his skin, it was intoxicating. When he started to feel pants tighten, he shook his head. He had to bring himself back into logical mode. “You’re drunk, Eponine. We need to take you home. Now.”

“Is that your way of playing hard to get?” She teased, bringing her face inches away from his. “Because I think it may be working.”

She leaned in to kiss him, but he was quicker. He pulled away and lifted her over his shoulder. As he stood, ignoring her protests, he looked around for his two friends. But both Courfeyrac and Grantaire were making out with a girl and something told him that they wouldn’t want to come home anyway. So, he decided to leave them there, and bring Eponine home at least.

In the car, she giggled and kept trying to ruffle Enjolras’ hair. “Do you wanna know a secret?” Eponine slurred. “I think you’re crazy hot.” And then she laughed hysterically and obnoxiously.

Enjolras rolled his eyes and kept his focus on the road. “We are never getting you drunk ever again.” He muttered.

“It’s weird that I’m so attracted to you right now. You’re so clean-cut. Like it took me a while to warm up to Montparnasse.” She explained openly, apparently not hearing his previous comment. Apparently, when she was drunk, she was very honest about her feelings. Enjolras would have to remember that. “But he was my first love, ya know? I mean were off and on all throughout high school and most of the time, we just had sex. But then, I thought I was starting to love him. But when I see you, Enjy, ugh! I mean damn boy.”

It was getting increasingly more difficult to focus on the road with Eponine’s hands all over him and her opening up to him like this. Luckily, they reached their parking lot. And not a moment too soon, because as he opened the door for her, she leaned over and threw up on the pavement. He barely leapt out of the way just in time.

“Oh, this is so sexy, right?” Eponine joked before throwing up again. Enjolras treid to ignore the horrendous smell and grabbed Eponine’s arms, pulling her away from the car. When they were sure she was done emptying the insides of her stomach, Enjolras carried her up to the apartment.

“You sure you don’t wanna get with this?” Eponine slurred sleepily, snuggling into Enjolras’ shoulder.

“Maybe later.” He muttered, opening her bedroom door.

“Is that a promise?” She yawned, as he gently laid her on the bed on his side.

“Just go to sleep, Eponine.” He pulled her blankets over her body.

“Thanks, love.” And then, she was out like a light. He gently turned her head to the side before he slumped into the arm chair next to her window. Enjolras was very glad that was over. But at the same time, he was intrigued at his reaction to Eponine’s advances. Especially when she straddled him. Sure, she was very pretty and he did have a thing for brunettes, but still. He had never even thought of her that way before tonight. He just hoped that she didn’t remember any of it the next morning.

Once he was sure that she was fast asleep and wasn’t going to puke anymore, he went to his room and collapsed on his bed, dreaming of the past out brunette across the hall.


	3. Oopsie

“Good morning, my dear friends!” Grantaire greeted loudly, as he waltzed in the kitchen the next morning. Courfeyrac and Enjolras were standing around the island, sipping on coffee and buttering their toast. Both men just looked at him with both annoyance and wonder.

“Dude, how are you this chipper right now?” Enjolras asked. “You drank as much as Eponine last night and she’s not even conscious.”

The curly haired man shrugged and went to the fridge for some orange juice. “Guess I’m just used to it.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “You know, that’s not exactly a good thing, R.”

“Oh, come on, Enjolras.” Courfeyrac nudged him in the shoulder. “Leave him be. Just be thankful that we only have to deal with one hungover person in this house.”

“Speaking of which, do you think we should wake her?” Enjolras asked, earning identical looks from Grantaire and Courfeyrac.

“I would not recommend that one.” Courfeyrac said.

“You could, but it’s your funeral, mate.” Grantaire told him, slapping his friend on the back.

“Who died?” asked a voice coming from Courfeyrac’s room. A blonde haired woman walked slowly in the kitchen, wearing a short glitzy dress and a serious case of bedhead.

“No one. Did you sleep well?” Courfeyrac asked, wrapping his arms around her waist and placing a kiss on her forehead.

The girl giggled. “Yes, I was exhausted after all that exercise. I’m surprised I can still walk.”

Enjolras and Grantaire groaned loudly, telling them to get a room or censor their words. Courfeyrac smiled at their disgust and shook his head. “They’re just jealous, because I get more action than them.”

“That’s not true.” Grantaire objected. “Last night, I was just about to bed a chick when she realized that I was a dude and I ‘wasn’t her type’.” He did air quotes in the air as he spoke.

“You made out with a lesbian?” Enjolras gasped.

“No, I just… yeah, I made out with a lesbian.” He admitted begrudgingly.

“Yeah, sure. Laugh it up.” He told them. Even Enjolras had to hold back a little chuckle.

“Look, man, I’m sorry.” Enjolras consoled his friend, while placing his coffee mug in the sink.

“Yeah, sorry, dude.” Courfeyrac said after he caught his breath. “Hey, do you wanna Paige here for an hour?” He gestured to the blonde at his side, who evidently did not find his joke funny. She gasped and slapped him across the face, before storming out of the apartment in a huff. Enjolras and Grantaire gave him identical looks. “Don’t tell me. Jar.” Courfeyrac started for the jar in the living room, while getting out his wallet.

Both of friends nodded.

“Yup.”

“Just drop your whole wallet in there until further notice.”

At that moment, Eponine stumbled into the kitchen, her hair clumped in the back where she been sleeping on it, sporting some raccoon eyes, as she squinted in the harsh sun light seeping into the apartment. Not to mention, her usually flawless skin looked a shade of green. “Well, good morning, gorgeous!” Grantaire greeted her cheerfully.

Eponine scrunched up her face and put a hand up to cradle her head. “Ugh, joyful noises and bright lights. I feel like I’m in Vegas.”

“How are you feeling this morning?” Enjolras asked somewhat stupidly. Mostly, he was concerned about what she would remember about last night.

She shot him an incredulous look. “What kind of a question is that? I don’t even remember coming home last night, let alone how much I drank.”

Courfeyrac stepped in as Enjolras secretly breathed a sigh of relief. “You drank quite a bit, Ep. Enough to put a sailor to shame.” Courfeyrac told her, resting his elbows on the kitchen island. “But do you feel like you’re over Montparnasse now?”

“My head feels like it held a frat party for a bunch of elephants. The last thing on my mind right now is some guy.”

“Sounds like someone needs my special Cure Juice.” Grantaire chimed in, walking to the fridge. Both Enjolras and Courfeyrac protested immediately.

“No, R. Don’t bring out the Cure Juice.”

“Come on, mna. Do you want to kill her?”

“She’s still so young.”

“What the hell is a Cure Juice?” Eponine asked as Grantaire pulled out a blue water bottle from the fridge.

“It’s the only sure fire way to get rid of a hangover.” He told her, shaking it up. “This is my secret to cure any nasty side effects of alcohol and on to a normal and healthy day.”

“Eponine, if you know what’s good for you, you will not even touch that bottle.” Enjolras warned.

“Shut up, Enj. I need to get rid of this headache and nausea right now! And I don’t care what it takes to do so.”

“Little does she know.” Courfeyrac muttered under his breath.

Eponine grabbed the water bottle from Grantaire and tried to examine its contents. It was difficult to see what was inside because the plastic was so thick and a deep shade of blue. “What’s in this stuff anyway?”

“Believe me, Ep. You do not want to know.” Courfeyrac said as Enjolras nodded in agreement.

All eyes were on Eponine was she carefully tipped her head back and took a swig of the Cure Juice. It didn’t take long after the first swallow before she recoiled in disgust. She ran to the sink and spat out whatever was left in her mouth. “Oh my god! That is foul!” She screeched. “What the hell is in that stuff? Acid?!”

“Tried to tell ya, hon.” Courfeyrac shrugged, making his way back to his room. “I think Grantaire ought to donate to the douchebag jar this time.”

“Agreed.” Enjolras nodded.

“What?” Grantaire asked innocently. “She’s cured, right?” He gestured to her as she practically retched into the sink.

Enjolras looked from Eponine to his drunk friend. “Jar.”

>>>

Later that day, after the hangovers had been dealt with and people stopped throwing up in the toilet, they were all seated on the couch, trying to decide on what to watch.

“I vote Criminal Minds!” Enjolras said, pushing buttons on the remote.

Courfeyrac moaned. “If I have to sit through another legal drama with you, Enj, I may commit suicide. Let’s just watch Keeping Up with the Kardashians and play which Kardashian would you bang?”

Grantaire swiped the remote from Enjolras. “Courf, get your mind out of the gutter for once. I want to watch Duck Dynasty, because we all need a little bit of Uncle Si in our lives.”

“You guys are all wrong!” Eponine protested, reaching for the remote, even though Grantaire was holding it just out of her reach. “Brooklynn Nine Nine is on and no one is allowed to hate on that show. Ever.”

“Would you guys quit being so immature about this?” Enjolras demanded, as he took the remote back from Grantaire. But this time, Courfeyrac snatched it from him and jumped off the couch and ran with it. “Courf, you give me that remote right now!” He yelled after his friend, while getting up to chase him around the couch.

Courfeyrac giggled childishly. “He, R. Catch!” He tossed the remote to his friend, as Enjolras reached for it, but missed it by a hair. Grantaire caught it with one hand and laughed at the frustrated blonde. “Hey, guys, look. Enjy in the middle!” He threw the remote again, this time way over Enjolras’ head to Courfeyrac, who caught it expertly.

Eponine rolled her eyes and got. “You guys, stop this before someone gets hurt.” She scolded, trying to grab the remote. But Courfeyrac had already tossed it to Grantaire. Unfortunately, this time he did not catch it. The remote flew past his outstretched hand and smashed into the TV behind him, cracking the screen. All four of the roommates were frozen as they watched the TV wobble from the impact and fall forward with a thud on the floor. No one dared to move or breathe for five seconds. Then, suddenly they all started talking and yelling at each other at once, accusing one another and bickering.

“Shut up!” Eponine screamed, silencing them all. “Fighting is what started this whole ordeal. Do you really want to make matters worse?”

“Well, if Courf hadn’t broken the TV,” Grantaire mumbled.

“I did not break it.” He defended. “You were supposed to catch it.”

“You threw it badly.”

“Well, that’s because-“

“I said, shut up!” Eponine yelled again, making both men hang their heads.

“Well, what are we supposed to do then?” Enjolras asked, putting his hands on his hips. “We can’t afford another TV and I need to watch the news in the morning.”

“Yeah, and how am I supposed to watch America’s Next Top Model?” Courfeyrac whined.

Eponine rubbed her temples as she contemplated the situation. “Do we know anybody who could lend us a TV?”

“Maybe Combeferre?” Grantaire suggested.

Enjolras snorted. “Yeah, right, R. The last time he leant us something you got mustard all over it.”

“It looked like a butter knife!” He argued.

“Montparnasse and I had a TV that I could get…” Eponine said, almost thinking out loud.

“Great!” Enjolras said. “Then call him up and ask him to bring it.”

“I can’t.” Eponine shook her head and crossed her arms.

“What do you mean you can’t?”

“I can’t.” She repeated.

“Can’t or won’t?”

Eponine kicked herself for being so careless with her thoughts. She was hoping to avoid talking to him ever again. But he did have a lot of her stuff that she wanted back. But these guys needed a TV and they were her friends. What was she going to do?


	4. The Confrontation

Eponine laid on her bed staring at the ceiling. Her phone was in her hand, but every time she dialed Montparnasse’s number, she’d chicken out and hang up. That stupid man was causing her so much more drama than what she had wanted when she first moved into the apartment with her three new friends. The main reason why she had moved was to get as far away from Parnasse as possible. But now, he was following her around, figuratively of course.

There was a soft knock on the door. “Do not enter.” Eponine said, putting her arm over her face.

“Fine, then I’ll just leave.” The voice at the door said, that was much too high to be any of the boys. Eponine opened the door to reveal her best friend since kindergarten, Cosette, standing in the doorway. Cosette had always been the pretty one. Her large doe-like eyes were baby blue, complimenting her wavy blonde hair that reached past her shoulders. Even as a small child, she had always been complimented as a beautiful little girl. It was no surprise when a modeling agency expressed interest in her when they were in college. At first, they had both laughed at the idea, but then, one day, out of the blue, she called them up and accepted the job, and had been modeling ever since.

“Cosette! What a nice surprise!” Eponine said while embracing her friend. But then, she made a face and looked at Cosette perplexedly. “How did you find me here? I don’t think I even told you I moved.”

She shrugged and went into Eponine’s room. “I went by Parnasse’s place, but he told me what happened. So, I had my dad track your cell phone here, because I was worried about you.” Her dad was the police commissioner. Needless to say, Cosette’s father and Eponine’s family have had quite a few run-ins with each other.

Eponine closed the door behind her and hung her head in shame. “I’m sorry for not telling you.”

She scoffed. “I don’t care about that. I just want to know how you’re feeling. I mean, you and Montparnasse were together for a long time.” Cosette smoothed out her mini skirt and sat on the bed, motioning for Eponine to do the same.

“I don’t know how I feel, to be honest.” She answered truthfully. “I’m pretty numb to it all. But now, the guys… You met my new roommates, right?” She asked in an almost scared tone.

Cosette rolled her eyes. “Yeah, real charmers, they are. That Courfeyrac guy flirted with me the whole time, while the other two just weirdly stared at me.”

“Yeah, sorry about them.” Eponine chuckled lightly. “Anyway, we broke the TV and now they want me to call up Parnasse to get my stuff back, including our TV.”

“So, why don’t you?” Eponine shrugged, but Cosette gave her a knowing look. “Hon, can I tell you something that you’re probably not going to want to hear?”

“Not particularly.”

“Too bad.” Cosette looked her friend in the eyes. “I think you’re scared that if you call him up and get your stuff back, then it will all be officially over. And I don’t think that you’re ready to give him up yet.”

Eponine stared at the floor as she considered Cosette’s words. Even though he did break her heart, there was a small sliver of her that still loved him. But now that she looks at it, maybe that small sliver is much bigger than she thought. “Maybe you’re right. But how do I even talk to him, after all that’s happened? I mean, yeah, I want my stuff, but then, I don’t even know how to start a conversation with him.”

“You don’t have to get into that right now.” Cosette told Eponine. “Maybe somewhere down the road, you two can talk it out and bury the hatchet. But right now, your only goal is to get your stuff back. And you have a right to do that.”

Eponine sighed and smiled at Cosette. “When did you become the smart one?” She teased.

Just then, Cosette's phone rang and she checked the screen. “Oh, it's my agent. Do you mind if I take this?” She asked, biting her lower lip.

“No, go ahead, Madame Model.” Eponine told her. “I'll just go and talk to the boys.” And with that, she left her best friend in her room and went out in the living room.

Courfeyrac and Grantaire were desperately trying to revive the TV, while Enjolras lounged on the couch, looking as though he was taking a nap. “Okay, so I'm going to call Montparnasse right now.” Eponine announced, somewhat confidently. She took a seat on the couch next to Enjolras' feet, startling him to consciousness.

“That's great.” He muttered, rubbing his eyes.

Eponine held her phone in her hands and stared at it but did not move. She looked at it, as if she was expecting it to dial the number by itself. All three of the boys exchanged looks before Grantaire cleared his throat. “Um, Ep?” She looked up at him. “You going to call him now?” He asked carefully.

“Yep.” She replied, staring back at her phone, but still could not move. “Why is this so hard?” She grunted.

“Because you're scared.” Enjolras answered. “Eponine, you've got to let this guy go. If he screwed up and cheated on you, well, that's his own damn fault. You need your stuff back; you should want your stuff back. And don't take no for an answer.”

Eponine looked at her phone, then to Enjolras. “You know what? You're right.” She said but put her phone in her pocket. “I'm not going to take no for an answer. In fact, I'm not even going to give him a heads up. I am going to his house right now, and demand that he gives me my stuff back.” She announced, as the three roommates whooped and hollered. Eponine grabbed her keys and purse and walked to the door. Before leaving, she turned and addressed the boys again. “I'm gonna get my stuff back!”

She left the apartment, just as Cosette came out of her room. “Where is she going?” Cosette asked confused.

Then, the door opened again, and Eponine stepped through. “Okay, so, I am probably going to need help carrying all of my stuff. So you guys are all coming with me.” Cosette nodded, but the other guys did not move. Eponine rolled her eyes. “Whoever helps the most gets first dibs on the TV.” With that, the boys dashed out the door and to her car.

…

It was a tight squeeze in Eponine's two-door car. Cosette was forced to sit in the back with Grantaire and Courfeyrac, because Enjolras insisted on being in the passenger seat.

“So where does this guy live?” Enjolras asked, as they crossed a busy intersection.

“Not very far.” Eponine answered, her fingers gripped the steering wheel like a life preserver.

“Are you smelling me?” Cosette gasped in disgust in the backseat.

“I can't help it.” Courfeyrac said. “That's the new perfume, L'eau du poire. It's so inviting.”

“Courfeyrac, don't make me throw you out of this car!” Eponine warned.

“No, I'm going to throw him out of this car.” Cosette said.

“I'm hungry.” Grantaire said, rubbing his stomach. “Can we stop to eat first?”

“No!” Enjolras and Eponine answered at the same time.

“Remove your hand from my body right now.” Cosette ordered Courfeyrac, with enough venom in her voice to kill an elephant.

“You have really soft skin; do you know that?” He told her.

“This is it!” Cosette announced, grateful that she would be able to get out the car soon.

Everyone in the car told Eponine various encouragements, as they neared the very shabby looking house Cosette pointed out. A chain link fence surrounded the yard, reminding Eponine of the time he had wanted to get a dog. The light-yellow paint on the house was peeling, and the little garden in the front was being overrun by weeds. Eponine glanced at the house and willed herself to step on the brake. But she couldn't. So she kept driving.

When they passed it, everyone asked her all at once what was going on. “Just once around the block. I promise.” Eponine told them. Well, they ended up circling the block six times.

“Ep, if we circle the block any more times, people will think we're mobsters or something.” Cosette told her, leaning forward and rubbing Eponine's shoulder. “You can do this, girl.”

Eponine drew a breath and parked in front of her old home. She stared at it helplessly, as all the memories came rushing at her all at once.

“Just remember, Eponine,” Enjolras encouraged. “Don't take no for an answer.”

“You got this, Ep.” Grantaire chimed.

“We'll be right here if you need us.” Cosette told her.

“Yeah, here we go!” Courfeyrac cheered. Then he started to chant her name, motioning for the others to join him, which they did.

“I'm going in!” Eponine declared. Then, she got out of the car and marched up to the door in determination. She pounded on the door with a large amount of aggression, and then turned to her friends in the car and gave them a thumbs up. She knocked again, but this time, the door opened as Montparnasse stood there.

He hadn't changed a bit over the last week and a half. He still had the shaggy brown hairstyle that resembled a hippie. The scruff around his face was still there, showing that, as usual, he hadn't shaved recently. He was dressed in his usual attire of sweatpants and a t-shirt, and of course, barefoot. “Eppy.” He greeted her, as if she was an old friend.

Eponine looked in her old boyfriend's hazel eyes and froze. Those eyes were so trusting and so... Parnasse. “Hi.” was all she could say at this point.

“It's so good to see you.” He told her in his comforting voice. “I was so worried about you.” He held out his arms and wrapped her in a hug as she stood there as stiff as a board. She took in his musty woodsy scent, and was thrown back to their high school prom, the night he told her he loved her. As she remembered the memory, she found herself wrapping her arms around him and hugging him back.

Meanwhile, her friends in the car were moaning.

“Ugh, why is she hugging him?” Enjolras asked.

“Does he look like Shaggy from Scooby Doo to anybody else?” Grantaire remarked.

“Where's the TV?” Courfeyrac said frantically.

“Hon, don't fall for it.” Cosette encouraged her friend, as if she could hear her. “Just get your stuff and get out.”

As the two of them embraced, a voice called from within the house. “Monty, where did you put my keys? I need to get-” Eponine broke off the hug and stared at the woman standing in the doorway.

“Marie?” Eponine gasped.

“Marie! That bitch!” Cosette screamed in the car.

“What's wrong?” Grantaire asked.

“Marie was like our best friend in high school, that is, before she got a boob job and thought she was hot stuff.” She explained.

Everything within Eponine exploded, no longer able to keep the hurt inside and contained. “You filthy douchebag!” She yelled at Montparnasse, before she slapped him. “We broke up a week and a half ago and you're already sleeping with my ex-best friend?!”

“If you just give me a chance to explain-” He stuttered still in shock from the slap.

“Don't bother.” She said, pushing past the bitch in the door, and into the house.

Everyone in the car cheered and got out of the car. Cosette stomped over to Marie and punched her in the face. Marie screamed and cradled her nose in her hands. “No one screws around with my best friend, you bitch!” She yelled, as Enjolras held her back hoping to avoid any more punches or slaps.

“Rise above it.” Enjolras told her.

Eponine was on a rampage, grabbing everything that she saw, while Montparnasse tried to talk her out of it. “Look, Eppy. We can work this out.” He begged. “No, don't take that! That's my Zepplin CD!”

“That I gave to you!” She snapped, bursting through door and walked to her car.

“Eppy, please, I thought we were going to be mature about this!”

“My name's not Eppy!” She yelled, turning on her heels and looking at him. “And I am taking my stuff back.” She directed the boys to where the TV was stowed and dropped her things that she was carrying in the trunk of her car. Once turning back to Montparnasse, he stepped closer to her until his face was inches away from hers.

“Please, Eponine.” He whispered. Eponine tried not to cry. That was practically the first time he had ever said her full name. “Don’t leave me.” His eyes pleaded with her, taking her back to their first kiss. But then, she also recalled all the times he came home drunk and angry, all the times he had pushed her away when she tried to help him, and all the times he had strung her along like a dog, only concerned about himself. There was no way Eponine was going to let herself get roped into that kind of life again.

“You’re too late, Montparnasse.” She told him, shaking his hands off of her shoulders. The boys were just bringing out the TV, followed by Cosette carrying an armful of stuffed animals. Eponine’s eyes then fell on the shirt Montparnasse was wearing. It said, “Miss Thernardier’s Homemade ‘Pi’s” with a picture of a cartoon pie with the math symbol of pi on it. “That’s my shirt.” She pointed to it.

He looked down at it and then back at her. “No, it’s not.”

She rolled her eyes. “It has my freaking name on it, moron. Of course, it’s mine. Take it off.”

“You want me to take off my shirt?”

“Yes, that’s what I just said. Give me my shirt back.”

“She said give her the shirt the back, man.” Grantaire said, standing behind Eponine and crossing his arms. The boys and Cosette safely deposited the TV and stuffed animals in her car and were now gathering in a group behind their friend.

Montparnasse shifted uneasily, as he looked from each person to the other. “Look, guys. I don’t want any trouble.” He said, holding up his hands innocently.

“Then, give the shirt back.” Courfeyrac ordered, his usual flirty care-free self temporarily replaced by a menacing persona. 

Eponine couldn’t help but feel touched by her friends sticking up for her. Cosette walked up to her friend and hooked arms with her. “I believe the lady asked you something, ‘Parnasse.” She told him with venomous sweetness. “And isn’t withholding someone else’s property illegal?”

“It is.” Enjolras stepped forward, holding out his hand unfriendly. “My name is Richard Enjolras, and I am a lawyer, sir. If you don’t wish to surrender that t-shirt in the next 30 seconds, I promise I can have ten police cars here in under a minute with one phone call.” He eyed the man with icy cold blue eyes with enough anger and determination to make him disintegrate into a pile of dust.

Needless to say, Montparnasse didn’t shake Enjolras’ hand. Instead, he grunted and took off the shirt, throwing it at Eponine. “Nice friends, you got here. You’re making a big mistake, Eponine.” He told her, as they turned to leave.

Eponine stopped in her tracks and paused before slowly turning on her heels towards Montparnasse. “No, my first mistake was wasting my time with you, Montparnasse.” She said as she clenched her fists. She had been holding this back for a while. “I wasted so many years with you, thinking that you’d change and not come home drunk for once. I prayed for you to grow a decent sense of morality and maybe I could change you, if I tried hard enough.” Tears stung her eyes, but she persisted on. “Do you want to know why I really stayed with you all these years? Because you made me feel worthless. Like I wasn’t worth a damn and I wouldn’t find any other guy to take an interest in me because I was dirt. But now, I see that I wasn’t the problem, Montparnasse. It was you. And when I walked in on you with that slut bag, that was the last straw. So, goodbye, dear Parnasse. And fuck you!”

Without another word, they left, leaving a very torn and frustrated Montparnasse on his lawn.

“Richard? Really?” Cosette asked Enjolras in the car.

“Why do you think we all go by our last names?” He shrugged.

“Wait, so Grantaire, Courfeyrac, and Enjolras are your last names?” She asked.

“If you really want to see him erupt,” Courfeyrac whispered to her, not at all discreet. “Just call him Dick.”

“Jar!”


	5. How Strange

“So here’s to our new friend, kicking ass and taking names,” Courfeyrac said, while raising his beer bottle. After getting everything unloaded and situated, the four roommates had decided to go out again to celebrate Eponine’s big move out. Although, this time, they decided to not drink as much as they did last time. They went to Grantaire’s bar, the Musain, since they could get free drinks from him while he worked.

Enjolras raised his beer bottle and nodded. “Here, here.” He cheered, as they all clinked their beer bottles together.

“Thanks, guys.” Eponine said, after they all sipped their drinks, or in Grantaire’s case, wiped the counter. “I really appreciate what you guys did back there with Parnasse and everything.”

“Anything for our Eppy,” Grantaire winked, walking over to another customer who had just sat down at the bar.

Eponine grimaced. “Ew, may I never hear that name again.”

Just then, a red headed girl from behind the counter, came by them and asked, “You guys done with these bottles?” She gestured to the two empty bottles already downed by Grantaire. The girl was a knock-out beauty, with almost cartoon-like curves. Her green eyes smiled almost as widely as she did, underneath her bangs.

Enjolras and Eponine shook their heads and motioned for her to take them, but Courfeyrac had obviously taken an interest in her, as he rested his elbow on the counter and plastered his flashiest smile. “Well, hello. I’m Courfeyrac. You must be new here.” He held out his hand for her to shake.

The girl smiled slightly. “And you must be a douchebag.”

Both Enjolras and Eponine had to hold back a laugh. There was hardly a time when Courfeyrac was turned down by a woman, and this girl just blew him out of the water. Courfeyrac didn’t let it phase him. “Ouch, why such hurtful words, beautiful maiden?”

The girl rolled her eyes. “You think you’re the first guy to ever hit on me? Especially in a bar setting?”

“But you don’t even know me.”

“Don’t need to. You’ve said enough already. And I’m not the kind of person to fall into someone’s cool demeanor.”

“Maybe I can change your mind.” He offered.

“Dream on, Curly.” She said, walking away.

Courfeyrac watched her go, as Enjolras and Eponine were no longer to contain their laughter. “Aw, man, that girl deserves a medal.” Enjolras teased, nudging his friend in the shoulder.

“I like her already.” Eponine giggled. She motioned Grantaire to come over to them. “Who’s the new girl?” She asked him.

Grantaire laughed. “Oh, you mean Musichetta? She’s a real sweetheart, ain’t she?”

“Sweet? She just shot Courfeyrac down in a not at all gentle way.” Eponine said.

“Oh, she’s great. She doesn’t take any shit from anyone, she gets her job done, and is a great conversationalist. The perfect bartender.” Grantaire remarked.

Courfeyrac, who had been quiet ever since his encounter with Musichetta, tried to laugh it off. “Yeah, go ahead. Laugh it up. But I like a challenge just as much as anyone. Time to watch Prince Charming spin his web of charm.” He said, getting up from the bar stool and walking over to the new girl, who was drying old fashioned beer mugs.

She must have sensed him coming, because she lifted her head to him. “Look, if you want a drink, I can get you a drink, but if you want anything else, you’re going to strike out again.” Musichetta warned.

He held up his hands innocently. “Hey, I’m sorry if I come across as a player. But the truth is,” He suddenly got serious, and leaned on the bar. “I recently broke up with my long-time girlfriend, so I’m just trying to get back in the swing of things.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She said, pushing a beer bottle to him.

He nodded, thanking her. “Yeah, she was really great, but things just weren’t working anymore. I’m just tired of the whole dating thing. I just want to find someone who I’m compatible with and who I can spend the rest of my life with. But most girls my age are just out for a couple of one-night stands. Do you know what I mean?”

She shrugged. Sympathy was filling her slowly, at least from what Courfeyrac could see. “I guess.”

“Do you think I’m a loser if all I want is something more than a one-night stand? That I want a girl who can tell me how she feels, and who will watch those goofy romantic comedy movies with me?”

Musichetta leaned on the bar and looked him in the eye. Redheads weren’t really his usual type, but this girl caught his attention, and he was absolutely entranced by her eyes. “Nice try, slick. Strike two.” She whispered, before winking.

Courfeyrac threw his hands up. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, you had a good beginning, but then you just got cheesy towards the end.”

He sighed in defeat, before straightening up. “Okay, look, all flirting aside. I really like you. And if you want me to back off, that’s fine. But in case you ever feel like giving me a chance,” He took out a pen from his shirt pocket and grabbed a napkin to write his number on it. “Here’s my number.” He handed the napkin to her, smiling a genuine smile.

She seemed hesitant at first, looking from the napkin to Courfeyrac, but then took it. “This isn’t a promise.” She warned.

“It doesn’t have to be.” He shrugged before going to rejoin his friends.

“Strike out again?” Enjolras teased.

“I am just choosing not to lay it on her right now.” He defended. “Trust me, if I wanted her to, that girl would be all over me right now.”

“Whatever you say, Romeo.” Eponine told him.

Grantaire came back to their little group and placed a cocktail down in front of Eponine. “It would appear, Miss Thenardier, that you have a secret admirer.” He announced.

“What?” She nearly choked on the beer she was sipping.

“The guy over there bought you a drink.” He gestured to a young, and rather handsome, sitting by himself at a booth. Once she turned to face him, he raised the wine glass he was drinking from her, as if to say, “Your welcome.” He had a thick head of brown hair, with freckles dotting his face. On anyone else, the freckles may have looked rather childish, but for him, it just worked. He was dressed rather nicely, a suit and a black tie that was loosened around his neck, giving him a “long day at the office” kind of look.

 _Why would he be interested in me?_ Eponine thought. He was way out of her league. “Huh.” was all she could say and waved to the man as a thank you.

“Why don’t you go over and talk to him?” Courfeyrac encouraged.

Enjolras knit his eyebrows together in skepticism. “She doesn’t even know him.”

“Exactly why she needs to go and talk with him.” Courfeyrac argued, nudging Eponine in the shoulder.

“I can’t go over there.” She gasped, suddenly very nervous. “What would I even say?”

“Thank him for the drink. Bat your eyes and flip your hair.” Courferyac answered simply. “Just put on your girl charm.”

“I think my ‘girl charm’ is a bit rusty, Courf,” She said.

“You don’t have to go and talk to him, Eponine, if you don’t want to.” Enjolras told her, somewhat hoping she wouldn’t. “You don’t know him. He could be a creeper or something.”

“That wears a suit and tie to a bar?” Grantaire scoffed. “Ep, I can read people really well, and from what I can tell, that guy is a huge thumbs up.”

“Yeah, go on and do yo thang girl.” Courfeyrac encouraged.

Eponine took a deep breath. “Okay.” She said getting up and walking over to him, before she changed her mind. All three of the men watched her waltz up to the classy man. “Hi,” Eponine greeted curtly.

Up close, the man was even more handsome. His eyes were simply captivating and lit up when he flashed her a Hollywood smile. “Hello. I see you got my gift.” He gestured to the cocktail in her hand. “I hope you don’t think that as too forward.”

She shook her head. “No, thank you very much, by the way.” She tried to remind herself to smile and to breathe. Breathing is important. “Um, but can I ask why you gave me such a gift?”

The man shrugged. “Well, I don’t normally do that sort of thing. But from across the bar, I could sort of tell that you needed one. Plus, I wanted an excuse to talk to you.” He then held out his hand for her to shake. “I’m Marius, by the way.”

She smiled and shook his hand firmly. “Eponine.”

“Eponine.” He echoed softly, sending shivers down her spine. “Would you care to join me, Miss Eponine?”

Trying to hide her blushing, she took the seat across from him, unable to stop smiling.

“Aw,” Courfeyrac remarked, watching Eponine and Marius from the bar. “They grow up so fast.”

Enjolras only grunted. He couldn’t explain it, but he had an uneasy feeling. It wasn’t about the new guy, but about the way Eponine smiled at him, and tucked her hair behind her ear. His stomach churned every time they laughed about something he said, every time she bit her lower lip while listening to his stories. Why was this happening to him? It couldn’t be jealousy… Could it? 


	6. A Heart Full of ??

Eponine and Marius had gone out twice that week, and Eponine felt as though everything was going so smoothly. It turns out that Marius is also a lawyer. (This earned a stiff grunt from Enjolras.) Not to mention, he was extremely intelligent. She enjoyed having intellectual conversations with him, as he did with her. And above all, they seemed to really like each other.

On the morning of their third date, Eponine came bounding in the kitchen that morning with a huge smile on her face. “Good morning, roomies!” She greeted.

Enjolras was sitting at the table, looking over some important looking documents, probably for work, while Grantaire and Courfeyrac were in the middle of making pancakes. “And a good morning to you, Little Miss Sunshine.” Courfeyrac nodded, while flipping a pancake over in the pan.

“Someone’s awfully cheery this morning.” Grantaire remarked.

She shrugged. “That may be because of my lunch date that I have planned with Marius today.” She held out a plate for Courfeyrac to place a pancake on. Enjolras made an extra amount of effort to concentrate on his work, and not what she was saying.

“Ah, young love.” Courfeyrac sighed, placing two brand new and still hot pancakes on her plate. “C’est magnifique, non?”

“Whatever that means.” Grantaire grumbled handing her the syrup.

Eponine went to the cupboard and grabbed the peanut butter to spread over her pancakes. She always spread peanut butter over her pancakes, topped with maple syrup, much to the boys’ disgust.

Grantaire scrunched his nose once seeing the peanut butter. “Ugh, really, Ep? Put the peanut butter back.”

“That is vandalism. You are ruining the sacred ways of the pancake.” Courfeyrac withdrew from it dramatically, covering his eyes.

Eponine just rolled her eyes. “Would you guys grow up? It’s not that bad.”

“Oh, the horror!” Courfeyrac gasped, as she started to spread it over the pancakes.

She put a hand on her hip and gave them a look. “Have you ever tried it before?”

Both men shook their heads violently. “No, I’m an American.” Grantaire said.

“Didn’t your mother tell you, ‘Don’t knock it ‘’til you’ve tried it’?” She asked. Suddenly, she got an evil idea. She looked down at the pancake and then back at the two boys with an evil grin.

Courfeyrac was a little confused, but Grantaire knew where she was going with this. “No.” He told her. “No. Don’t you dare.”

She then took the peanut butter covered pancake and flung it at the boys. Grantaire was able to duck out of the way, but the still confused Courfeyrac got hit directly on the forehead. The peanut butter made it stick to his face, causing Eponine and Grantaire to laugh uncontrollably.

“Hey, Courf, you got a little something on your forehead there.” Eponine giggled hysterically.

Courfeyrac calmly and slowly removed the breakfast food from his face, looking at the other two, and then threw it back at Eponine, where it hit her right in the chest.

“Ha, ha, bullseye!” He cheered victoriously. Eponine tore it off of her and flung it at Grantaire and then ran to her other pancake to throw at the two boys. Soon, it was a peanut butter pancake war, pancakes flying everywhere, and everyone giggling and shouting battle cries.

Enjolras set his jaw in frustration. He had to look over these notes for a big trial coming up, and these idiots were having a food fight in their home. Just as he was internally judging their immaturity, a slimy, yet sticky thing attached itself to his cheek. Everyone froze and stared at Enjolras, as he slowly removed the pancake from his face. He stared at the thing in his hand for a while, before slowly turning to his friends, his expression completely unreadable. A large blob of peanut butter still remained on his cheek, making his appearance almost comical, but no one dared move.

“You guys are completely and totally immature.” He said sternly. He walked closer to the three peanut buttery roommates slowly, yet purposefully. “If you’re gonna do this, do it right.” He said, before slamming the pancake onto Courfeyrac’s crotch. They all laughed, including Courfeyrac, before Eponine realized the time.

“Oh, shit, I got to start getting ready.” She grabbed a pancake stuck to Grantaire’s face, and took a bite from it, while quickly exiting the kitchen.

Courfeyrac looked down at his crotch and then to his friends. “So, who’s gonna lick it clean?” He winked.

Enjolras and Grantaire groaned. “Jar!”

…

“So then, I told him, ‘Look, man, I know you’re the one with the vaccuum, but could you please give us some space?’ And then he just turns to me and goes, “Why don’t you go back to preschool, mate?”

Eponine laughed heartily at Marius’ story. They were sitting in a semi-fancy restaurant enjoying their dessert, while simultaneously maintaining a conversation. The more they talked, the more Eponine realized how much she really did like Marius. He was smart, charming, and had so many stories to tell. She couldn’t recall the last time she had ever felt this intrigued by a man. “You are simply too much, Marius.” She giggled, sipping on her champagne.

Marius blushed modestly. “I try not to brag.” He shrugged. She bit her lower lip and lowered her head. He regarded her carefully, carefully gauging her. Then he rested his elbows on the table. “Eponine?”

“Yes, Monsieur Marius?” She asked leaning forward.

“This is, what, our third date?”

She nodded. “I believe it is.”

“And it’s going well, our dates, haven’t they?”

Eponine became a bit confused as to where he was headed with this. “They have. Is there something wrong?”

“No, no, no.” He assured her. “I agree, and also admit that I do, sort of, like you, Eponine.” She blushed brightly. Marius smiled and placed a hand over hers. “I was merely wondering, and please, don’t feel obligated to say yes because I would completely understand and respect that. But I was wondering if you would like to come back to my place tonight?”

He looked her in the eye, and Eponine wanted to melt. Was he really asking her to come home with him? Everything within her screamed; she wanted to jump up and down and scream until her throat was raw. But somehow she maintained her cool, and said, “I’d like that.”

Marius smiled widely and waved down the waitress for the check.

…

Marius had failed to mention that he lived in a palace! Well, maybe not quite a palace. But it was a very large Victorian style house. The driveway alone was longer than the street they had turned off on. It was clear that Marius was more well-off than he had let on.

“You didn’t tell me you lived in Hogwarts.” Eponine gasped, as he opened the car door for her.

“This is actually my grandparents’ home. They left it to me when they passed on. Personally, I think it to be too ostentatious.” Marius shrugged it off.

“Well, I think it’s gorgeous. Wish I lived in a place like this.”

He led her inside into the foyer. A large silver chandelier lit the cream-colored entryway with a modern looking rug on the ground. Stairs sat on both sides of the room with a door leading to a sitting room in the middle. It was something out of a fairytale, and Eponine was absolutely breathless.

“So, welcome to my humble abode.” Marius joked as he took her coat and hung it on a coat rack.

“I think I have a slightly different definition of humble than yours.” She joked.

Marius took her into the sitting room that was styled like a log cabin. A grand fireplace stood on the far wall, decorated with stone and wood, making it resemble an old-fashioned fireplace. The chairs and couches were turned to face the television off to the right of the fireplace, and a large brown bear rug laid on the floor.

“My grandfather was a skilled hunter, and often brought home some of his kills.” Marius explained. “Can I get you something? Perhaps a glass of wine.”

“That would be great.” She nodded, as he disappeared down the hall to the kitchen. Now alone, Eponine took in her surroundings. All the fancy decorations and the style of the rooms, Eponine suddenly felt dirt poor and intimidated. Her teaching salary barely covered her monthly bills, and here was Marius, sitting like a king in his castle. How could a man as amazing and rich as Marius take an interest in a street rat like her?

Before she could dwell on these thoughts too long, Marius returned holding two wine glasses and a bottle of expensive looking wine. “Good thing my grandparents kept a good stock on wine.” He said, popping open the bottle and gesturing her to sit. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

Eponine took a seat on the couch, and nearly sank into it. She couldn’t help but moan at the level of comfort. “Oh my god, this couch is like a cloud!” She said, slouching back into it.

Marius chuckled. “I agree. I find myself falling asleep on this couch many times.” He poured the glasses as he spoke. “It’s both a blessing and a curse.”

“How could this beautiful piece of furniture be a curse?” Eponine questioned, stroking it lovingly.

He handed her a glass and sat down next to her. “I don’t feel too motivated on this couch. If I sit on it for too long, I don’t want to go anywhere or do anything.”

“I can see why.” She sipped on the wine. “I just want to spend the rest of my life on this couch!”

Marius chuckled, sipping on his wine. Eponine suddenly became aware of how close they were. His knees were centimeters away from hers, and his arm, casually draped on the back of the couch, was so close her shoulder she could feel his body heat. There was an awkward silence where they sipped away and tried to avoid the other’s glances.

Eponine, wanting to break the silence, gulped down the last of her wine, and placed it on the wooden coffee table, making sure to place it on one of the coasters. “Well, that is some very good wine.” She told him, biting her lower lip.

“I’m glad you approve.” Marius said, also placing his glass on the table, but as he did, he accidentally brushed his hand over her knee, sending chills up both their spines. They locked eyes on each other, willing the other to make a move. Marius reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind Eponine’s ear, his hand lingering on her cheek.

Before she could even think about what was happening, she leaned forward and kissed his lips softly. Her head felt dizzy as their lips connected and danced with the other’s. His hand cupped her cheek, while his thumb stroked her cheek gently. Eponine couldn’t remember when a kiss felt this nice. Montparnasse had always been rough, seeking out pleasure rather than savoring her, like what Marius was doing.

The next thing she knew she was lying on her back with Marius on top of her, still kissing her like she was the only girl in the world. His tongue asked permission to enter her mouth, and she granted it to him, thankful that he was even a gentleman while making out. Soon, the kiss grew more heated, and Marius peppered her neck and chin with light and gentle kisses. Eponine tilted her head back to grant him access, closing her eyes. Suddenly, in her mind, she saw Montparnasse, instead of Marius, telling her to be a good girl and to do as he told her. She could feel his coarse hands on her skin, not at all gentle, and holding her down as he did what he wanted. Panic filled Eponine. She opened her eyes and pushed Marius away. “I’m sorry. I need to stop.” She sat up, as reality hit her. Montparnasse was not here. Marius sat next to her, his lips still swollen, and his breath labored. Eponine sighed frustrated. “I’m sorry,” She repeated, burying her face in her hands. “Oh, my god. I really am sorry.”

“No, please, don’t be sorry, Eponine.” Marius said, touching her arm softly.

She looked down at his hand, and then back to him. “I really do like you, Marius. It’s just, I just recently came out of a relationship and I don’t think I’m ready yet.”

“Please, don’t let me make you feel pressured to do anything you don’t want to do, Eponine.” He said sincerely. “I shouldn’t have done anything without your consent. And I completely understand that you don’t want anything like that right now.” Marius smiled, and cupped her cheek again. “I like you, too, Eponine. And I am willing to do whatever you’re comfortable with. I am content just to be with you.” He placed a kiss on her forehead and offered to take her home. She consented but kicked herself the whole time.

Here was an amazing and attractive guy willing to worship the ground she walks on and she wasn’t willing to have sex with him? She figured that she still wasn’t completely over Montparnasse and didn’t really know what to do anymore. If she was being honest with herself, she didn’t feel like she could give Marius what he wanted sexually, or to determine what she wanted. Montparnasse had always told her what to do and what position to take.

One thing’s for sure, she would have to ask Cosette what to do. Or maybe she could ask the guys…


	7. Let's talk about...

“Dude, it’s clearly ‘C’! Are you freaking stupid or something?” Courfeyrac yelled at the TV. The three boys were sitting on the couch, watching “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?” as they do every afternoon.

“How can it be ‘C’?” Grantaire asked. “I’m pretty sure that Washington didn’t grow up in the state of Washington.”

“When in doubt, pick ‘C’. Don’t you remember high school?”

“Shut up, the both of you!” Enjolras demanded, leaning forward and trying to hear the answer. “Besides, it’s obviously ‘A’.”

“Oh, obviously.” Courfeyrac said in his mimicking voice. “I’m Enjolras, and you are all complete idiots to me.”

“Well, you pretty much are.” He grumbled.

“Hey, I resemble that remark!”

“I think you mean ‘resent’.” Grantaire corrected.

Courfeyrac shook his head. “Nope, I meant resemble. Let’s not play stupid, R.”

At that point, Eponine walked in after a long day of teaching. “Hey, guys.” She greeted, but they paid no attention to her.

“Just say the freaking answer, Meredith!” Grantaire yelled, throwing popcorn at the screen.

“Uh, guys? Can I talk with you real quick?” Eponine tried to get their attention.

“Grantaire, if you throw another kernel of popcorn, so help me God, I will kill you.” Enjolras scolded.

Eponine rolled her eyes and swiped the remote from Enjolras’ hand and shut off the TV, just they were about to reveal the answer. All three men shouted at her and complained very loudly. Again, she rolled her eyes. “I want to talk to you guys about something.” She said. “Besides, the answer is clearly ‘A’.”

Enjolras gestured to Eponine and turned to Courfeyrac. “Thank you, Eponine.”

“Oh, well, good for you!” Courfeyrac said, sticking it out his tongue at him.

“Guys, I really need your help.” Eponine told them, sitting in the chair across from the couch they were on.

Seeing that her friend was serious, all three men scooted forward. “What is it, Ep?” Grantaire asked, almost scared.

She took a deep breath to prepare herself. “I need to talk to you guys about sex.” She blurted out.

There was a split second of silence. Courfeyrac grew a wicked grin across his face, while Grantaire and Enjolras sat there shocked and pale. Then, Enjolras scratched the back of his neck and cleared his throat. “Um, I need to go… sort through some papers.” He mumbled, standing up.

“And I need to go drink this conversation away…” Grantaire said, following Enjolras.

“No, guys, please don’t leave.” Eponine begged, grabbing onto Enjolras’ wrist, to stop him or Grantaire from going anywhere. “This is serious.”

“Oh, joyous of all occasions!” Courfeyrac clapped happily. “I have prayed for this day for a long time! What do you need, Ep? Positions? Tips? Toys?”

“Okay, don’t listen to anything Courfeyrac says, for starters.” Grantaire told her.

“I really don’t want to be here…” Enjolras tugged towards his room, but Eponine didn’t let go of his arm. It was as if her hand was welded onto his arm.

“Sit. Down!” She ordered through clenched teeth, shooting him a death glare.

Enjolras obeyed and sat immediately. “Well what brought this on, Eponine?”

“You’re not confused about anything are you?” Grantaire asked worriedly.

“No, it’s not that.” Eponine assured him. “It’s just… I haven’t had sex since I was with Montparnasse and he usually… you know, took control.”

“So, what you’re saying is that you don’t know what to do?” Courfeyrac asked.

“No, I just don’t know what Marius wants. I mean, Montparnasse was the dominant one. He wasn’t afraid to tell me what he wanted.”

“Oh, I like this.” Courfeyrac said rubbing his hands together. “Did he ever use handcuffs and make you dress up as a french maid?”

Grantaire and Enjolras groaned loudly. “Jar!”

“Seriously, dude, there’s a time and a place.” Grantaire said while hitting him.

“Guys!” Eponine said, clapping her hands to get their attention. “Can we focus here? And Courf, I beg you, don’t turn this into a douche thing. I really do need your help.”

“Well, you’re asking us what Marius wants in bed?” Grantaire asked.

“No, I’m asking what do guys like. In general. Just give me an idea.”

“Well, I’ve been waiting for this.” Courfeyrac squealed. “Ep, you have come to the right person. If there is one thing that I know, it is sex.”

“Like I said, don’t listen to anything Courf says.” Grantaire repeated. “Ep, look, just keep it simple at first. Don’t try to seem too experienced, but at the same time, don’t be an amateur.” Eponine listened carefully and nodded. “And you don’t want to do anything that you don’t feel comfortable doing.”

“Yes, you want to be sure to establish your safe word early on.” Courfeyrac explained. “Do you want to know what mine is?”

“I’m begging you not to say it,” Grantaire rolled his eyes.

“Please don’t.” Eponine shook her head.

“Khakis!” He announced proudly.

Grantaire reached behind him and grabbed the douchebag jar. He shoved it in his friend’s lap aggressively. “You’re going to hang on to this for a little while until you have learned your lesson.”

But then Eponine noticed that Enjolras had been unusually quiet and avoiding her gaze. “Enjolras, what do you think?” She asked.

His face immediately turned bright red and he shifted uncomfortably on the couch. “Uh, I… I’m not sure what you want… me to say.” He stammered.

“Aw, you broke the virgin!” Courfeyrac laughed.

“Dude, you’re a virgin?!” Eponine gasped.

“I am not!” Enjolras insisted. “I don’t see how that is any of your guys’ business in the first place, but I have indeed… engaged in… intercourse.”

“Ugh, you sound like my grandmother.” Grantaire moaned. “We are all adults here, Enj. We can actually say the word ‘sex’.”

Enjolras huffed a sigh. “This is just a very personal topic, R. Everyone knows how I am with personal things.”

“Well, tough.” Eponine said. “‘Cause I’m asking you. Now answer my question, Enjolras: What do you like in bed?”

Enjolras looked at her, for the first time since the conversation started. He was brought back to the night where he had brought a drunk Eponine home, when she was practically throwing herself on him. Sure, she was drunk, but maybe there was something in her that liked him. What was he saying? Shaking his head, he said, “Well, not french maids or handcuffs, I’ll tell you that.”

Courfeyrac threw his hands up in the air. “Those happen to be very common fantasies. It’s not just me.” He defended.

“Whatever.” Enjolras rolled his eyes. He looked back at Eponine and peered into her chocolate brown eyes. “Just… don’t try to overthink it, Eponine. Marius obviously likes you, so don’t doubt or second-guess yourself. And don’t think about Montparnasse either. I don’t think I speak for every guy in the world, but I know that when I’m with a woman, I want to feel special. That I’m the only person in the world that they care about at that moment, even if they have slept around. So… make him feel special.”

No one so much as breathed, all surprised by his words, Eponine especially. She had never really expected any man to say that, let alone Enjolras. But when he spoke, she could hear the truth in his voice. It was true that he tried to avoid personal topics at all costs, but this time, when he was forced to, he held nothing back. He was honest, yet gentle.

“Whoa. That was beautiful. I think I can see your bra strap, Oprah.” Grantaire teased, finally breaking the silence. Courfeyrac laughed heartily, and Enjolras stood.

“Well, if anyone needs me, I need to go hide in my room.” He announced, trying to hide his red face. He, too, had been surprised by his honesty.

The two other men “awww”ed. “Now, you hurt the little girl’s feelings.” Courfeyrac said condescendingly.

“I’m sorry, baby. Come back and let’s watch The Notebook together!” Grantaire called after him, before Enjolras slammed his bedroom door shut.

Eponine glared at her two roommates. “You two ought to be ashamed of yourselves. Why are you making fun of him?”

“Look, Ep,” Grantaire said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “We’re guys. We don’t focus on feelings. In this house, we have an unspoken rule. ‘If you don’t talk about your feelings, then we won’t ask.’ Everyone has a right to feel what they want but talking about them just makes things awkward.”

“That’s a stupid rule.” Eponine commented.

“No, it’s not.” Courfeyrac objected. “We honestly tried it once. Me and Grantaire tried to get Enjolras to talk about his feelings after his break-up with Amelie, but it turned into a wild drinking game, and we ended up spending a couple nights in jail.”

“So, just put away the booze.” Eponine said. “Not everything can be solved by drinking.”

Grantaire gasped dramatically. “You take that back!”

Eponine rolled her eyes, and stood up, making her way towards Enjolras’ room, as the other two scrambled for the remote she had left on the coffee table. She stood at his door for a minute, unsure of what to say, but finally she worked through her doubts, and knocked softly.

“Go away.” Enjolras called from the other side of the door, making no move to open it.

“Enjolras, it’s me.” Eponine called back. “Now, don’t be a baby and open the door.”

Enjolras, who was lying on his bed, huffed and begrudgingly opened the door. “You hear to swap make-up tips or something?” He asked sarcastically.

Eponine put her hands on her hips. “Stop it. I just wanted to thank you for sharing that. I know it wasn’t easy for you, but… I appreciate it.”

He searched her face, looking for a hint of sarcasm or laughter, but instead all he found was gratitude and truth. “Your welcome, Eponine.” He nodded.

They just stood there, looking at each other for a long time, not really sure of what to say or what to do. Finally, Eponine’s phone buzzed in her pocket, giving her an excuse to break eye-contact. “It’s from Marius.” Eponine announced. “He wants to hang out tonight.”

Enjolras cleared his throat. “Well, I hope you have fun, then.” He told her honestly. She nodded and turned towards her room across the hall. He watched her go, wanting to say something, but didn’t know what. “Eponine?” He finally said before she disappeared into her room. She turned to face him, her eyes meeting his once again. Even she was dating someone else, and planning to sleep with him, Enjolras couldn’t help but feel something inside him twitch looking into her eyes. Soon, he realized that he had spoken and quickly said, “Don’t forget to use protection.”

Eponine threw her head back and laughed her melodious laugh. “Okay, Dad.” She saluted to him and then went back in her room.

Enjolras lingered in his doorway for a little longer, before he heard someone clear their throat. He turned and saw Courfeyrac standing there. “‘Don’t forget to use protection’? Really?”

“Get out of here!” Enjolras said, grabbing a pair of slippers from his room and throwing them at his friend. Then he locked himself in his room again, thinking about nothing but Eponine.


	8. The Tigers Come at Night

The morning after, Enjolras came home from work around dinner time, that Grantaire was cooking up. The one thing that Grantaire was especially good at was food. He was the house chef, and he liked it that way. No one else complained, simply because he made all of his food as if he was constructing a sculpture, and it always tasted very good.

“What’s for dinner, R?” Enjolras asked, walking to the fridge to pour himself a glass of iced tea.

“Spaghetti and-a meatballs-a!” He proclaimed in a bad Italian accent. “It will be the best spaghetti to have ever passed your American lips-a.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Can’t wait.” He then noticed that the apartment seemed a little too quiet. “Where is Eponine and Courf?”

“Well, Courf had to go to work for some company meeting, but he should be back in time for dinner. And Eponine…” He glanced at his friend and waggled his eyebrows. “Hasn’t been home all night.”

Enjolras’ eyes widened in understanding and shifted his feet. “Have you heard from her at least?”

“Nope. I tried texting her a couple of times, but still no response.”

“Did you try calling her?”

Grantaire looked at Enjolras as if he had just told him that he was sprouting a second nose. “This is the 21st century, Enj. No one calls anybody anymore, besides politicians and telemarketers. And you don’t answer those calls because that’s how the government finds out information about you.”

Again, Enjolras rolled his eyes. “I guess I’ll call her then.” He produced his phone from his pocket, and dialed Eponine’s number. He just wanted to check on her… Yeah, that’s what he wanted.

Grantaire was humming some tune, but Enjolras heard something so he told him to hush. In the distance, he could hear the muffled tune of “Wannabe” by the Spice Girls. Grantaire heard it too and exchanged worried looks with Enjolras. The two men remained quiet as they followed the song. It was coming from the outside of their apartment and in the hall that lead to the elevator. Without hesitation, Enjolras threw the door open and found Eponine sitting on the floor next to the elevator, her head buried in her arms that were resting on her knees.

“Eponine!” The two men gasped in unison and rushed to her side.

Slowly, she lifted her head to look at them. When she did, they saw her smeared mascara on her cheeks indicating that she had been crying. Her usually bright and lively brown eyes were bloodshot and glazed, as if she was too tired to cry anymore. “Hey.” was all she was able to say.

“Oh my god, Ep. What happened?” Grantaire asked.

“Marius. He’s… he’s…” She felt her lower lip tremble and she buried her face back in her arms again.

“Let’s just get you inside, okay, Eponine?” Enjolras said gently.

She shook her head. “I don’t want to move.”

“Then, don’t.” Enjolras then scooped her up in his arms, carrying her bridal style back to their apartment. Normally, she would have protested because she hated to be treated as a damsel in distress. But she was so depressed at this point, that Enjolras could’ve dressed her up as a Barbie doll and had a tea party and she wouldn’t have cared. Grantaire grabbed her purse and held the door open for Enjolras, as he carried her to her room. As if he was laying a child down to bed, he placed Eponine carefully on her bed and covering her up with her quilts.

Eponine snuggled into her pillows. “Thank you, Enjolras,” She whispered, closing her eyes.

Enjolras tried not to think of the last time he put Eponine to bed, and simply nodded. “Your welcome, Eponine.” He told her. He wanted to stay and ask her what was wrong but he felt as though she wasn’t really up for talking just yet.

Instead, he got up and closed her bedroom door behind him, giving her the space she deserved. Grantaire stood outside, wringing his hands. “Did you find out what was wrong with her?”

He shook his head. “Didn’t ask. I didn’t want to push things.”

“Well, whatever this Marius bastard did to her, he’s gonna wish he was never born.” Grantaire threatened.

“Okay, calm down, Rocky.” Enjolras told him. “Let’s just wait until she’s up to telling us what happened.”

But Eponine never came out of her room. The next day, she laid in bed, rejecting any food the boys had offered her, and rejecting any attempt to start a conversation. The three roommates grew increasingly worried for their new friend, as it was very unlikely that she would turn down a plate full of blueberry pancakes with peanut butter, her favorite food.

Soon, Enjolras could no longer stand it. He searched her purse for her phone. Normally, he would be morally opposed to digging through any woman’s purse, but he felt as though this was an emergency. Once he found it, he dialed Cosette’s number. If Eponine refused to tell them about what happened, maybe she’ll confide in her best friend.

“Hello?” Cosette answered sounding a bit distracted.

“Hello, Cosette. This is Enjolras, Eponine’s roommate.”

“Oh, yeah.” Something in her voice changed, but Enjolras wasn’t sure what. “Why are you calling from her phone?”

“I didn’t know your number and, well, we could sort of use your help.”

“With what?” She asked carefully.

“Well, Eponine has been lying in bed all day, extremely depressed about something, but we don’t know what it is because she won’t talk to us. I know it has something to do with Marius, but that’s all I could get out of her. Do you think maybe you can come by and talk with her? You are her best friend after all.”

There was a long pause, before she spoke. “Look, Enjolras…” She started slowly. “Normally, I would dash over there in less than a minute, but… I can’t this time. I don’t think that would be wise.”

Enjolras knit his eyebrows tightly together. “Why not?”

“Because… I’m the reason why she’s so depressed.” Enjolras struggled to maintain his shock and instant anger but remained silent somehow as she explained. “They went out for dinner last night, and I ran into them, purely coincidental, and well, Marius and I sort of… flirted. I don’t really know why or how, but he started to show more interest in me and I sort of liked him back, but I didn’t know that he was the guy Eponine was seeing until she came back from the bathroom. Anyway, Eponine and I had a huge fight and she broke up with Marius.”

It all made sense to Enjolras now. No wonder she was so depressed. “Maybe you’re right, Cosette.” Enjolras told her slowly. “Perhaps it isn’t wise that you come by right now. Or ever for that matter!” He quickly hung up the phone before she could tell him anything else.

>>>

Eponine laid on her side staring at the wall opposite from the door, when there was a soft knock on her door again. She rolled her eyes. _Why can’t I just wither away in solitude?_ She thought angrily. As flattering and sweet as the guys have been to her, all she wanted was to be alone. “Go away.” She called weakly, her throat dry and scratchy.

She heard the door open behind her anyway. “It’s me.” Enjolras said quietly. There was something in his voice that caught Eponine’s attention. Quietly, he sat at the foot of her bed, willing her to look at him, but she didn’t. “I talked to Cosette.”

The sound of her name made everything in Eponine die a little. She thought back to the night before when Marius said her name for the first time. He said it with such adoration and well, love. “You did?” She finally said, still not able to turn her head to look at him.

“Yeah, she told me what happened.” Enjolras rubbed his legs with his hands, not really sure what to say. “I’m not here to impose anything or to annoy you. But I just thought you should know that I’m sorry that this happened to you, Eponine.” She tried to ignore the way Enjolras spoke her name, as if he was reciting beautiful poetry. “I know how much you liked him.”

Suddenly, something in Eponine snapped. She sat up for the first time in hours, her bones and muscles practically creaking like rusty hinges. She looked at him with a fire in her eyes, that made him want to run and hide. “I don’t want your sympathy, Enjolras.” She told him. “I don’t need it. I am not that kind of girl who needs to have her hand held through all the turmoil in her life. As painful as what happened is, I will get through this. On my own.”

“Eponine, I didn’t…”

“Get out.” She ordered. “Get out of my room. I just want to wither away and die in peace and I can’t do that with you eggheads knocking on my door every two minutes asking me if I want a cookie. Just go away and stay away.” She flopped back on her side, her back to Enjolras.

He stood up slowly and started towards the door. But something made him stop. Enjolras glanced back at Eponine tucked in underneath a bunch of blankets. Even through the many layers, he could see her shaking with emotion, as if she was about to cry.

“I really am sorry, Eponine.” Enjolras dared himself to say. “But you should know that you’re not alone in this. Whether you like it or not, we, Grantaire, Courfeyrac and I, we’re involved now. And we are willing to help you in any way we can. We just want you to be happy, Ep.” He swallowed thickly. “I want you to be happy.” The air in the room thickened drastically, but Eponine did not move. “We’ll be right out here if you need us for anything.” And with that, he closed the door.

Eponine heard the door shut and buried her face in her hands. She wept for what seemed like an eternity until her eyes could produce no more tears. She wept for Marius, Enjolras, and herself until she lost consciousness and fell into a deep sleep.


	9. Lovely Lady

“Maybe we should head back,” Enjolras suggested uneasily. Courfeyrac and Grantaire decided it would do them no good just waiting around for Eponine to emerge from her room. They kidnapped Enjolras and took him out to the Musain for some much-needed relaxation ever since the whole Eponine ordeal.

“Enjolras, quit worrying about your girlfriend for once.” Courfeyrac complained. “The point of us going out tonight is to forget all that.”

“She’s not my girlfriend, Courf.” Enjolras said rolling his eyes. “And I guess I’m just concerned about her since she hasn’t come out of her room for a couple of days.”

“We were doing no good by standing around and waiting for her,” Grantaire said, slurping his beer. “Eponine says that she wants space, so we’ll give her space. Besides, I needed a drink.”

Enjolras sighed heavily and finally sipped on the beer that had been in front of him untouched for ten minutes. “All right. I guess I can try to relax for a little while.” He conceded.

“Alright, Enjy!” Courf cheered, slapping him on the back. “We’ve got the old Enjolras back.”

“You know that I hate being called Enjy, Courf. And what do you mean, ‘the old Enjolras back’?”

“Well, Enj, let’s face it. You haven’t exactly been a party animal since our freshman year of college.” Grantaire said.

That was true. Freshman year of college for Courfeyrac, Grantaire and Enjolras was a stereotypical one. That is, full of parties, girls, and booze. They hardly went to class and had a new girlfriend every week. But then Enjolras met Amelie, who greatly disapproved of his lifestyle. She set him straight and sobered him up, and Enjolras became the man that he is today. For him, she was the best thing to have ever happened to him. To Courfeyrac and Grantaire, she was a control freak who robbed them of their once fun and lively friend.

“That’s because I finally grew up, R.” Enjolras said. “Life isn’t about girls and getting drunk.”

“What the hell are you talking about?!”

“Are you nuts?” Both of them gasped, making Enjolras question his choices when making friends.

“Richard?” A female voice gasped, that made all three men stop and stare at her. They all knew that voice too well. It was a voice they had not heard in a while.

“Amelie.” Enjolras was frozen as his eyes fell on the woman he swore would never come sauntering back into his life again. She hadn’t changed a bit since he saw her last. Her brown hair was pulled into a side braid, the way she always did her hair. Her hazel eyes looked green under the dim bar light, but they still made Enjolras’ heart twitch. Gazing at her, he was suddenly back in college, with Amelie helping him study for his exams, getting him coffee whenever he needed it, and telling him when he needed sleep.

“Wow, Rich.” She smiled her dashing smile. It was one of the first things about her that Enjolras noticed when he had first met her. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Enjolras could not find the ability to speak for once. “Well, if it isn’t Amelie. Nice to see you, too. As always.” Courfeyrac greeted charmingly.

She nodded to him politely. “Hi, Courf. And Grantaire. Glad to know some things haven’t changed, huh?” She gestured to the beer bottle in his hand.

Grantaire rolled his eyes. Amelie and Grantaire had never gotten along. Not in college and certainly not now. She was like Enjolras, in the fact that she did not approve of his drinking problems or his job, but what was different about Amelie was that she actually tried to change him, to no avail. “Yes. You know me. Say, how are things down in hell?”

“Grantaire!” Enjolras scolded, suddenly able to speak.

Amelie shrugged it off. “Don’t sweat it, Richard. I’m not here to fight with him.”

“Then, not to seem rude, but why are you here?” Courfeyrac asked slowly.

“Well, it’s kind of funny, but I was actually on a date…”

“A date?” Enjolras tried to hide his disappointment the best he could.

“Yeah.” She pointed to a clean-shaven man over at the bar that looked like he belonged in an Abercrombie and Fitch ad. “That’s Henry. But it’s only our second date so nothing serious.”

“Wow.” Enjolras nodded curtly. “That’s great, Amelie. I’m really happy that you’re doing well.”

“Anyway, I just saw you from across the bar and I thought that I would come over and say hi. I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything.”

“Too late now.” Grantaire muttered.

“Well, actually.” Enjolras blurted out, after kicking Grantaire under the table. “We were just waiting on my girlfriend to show up.” What did he just say? Just a couple of seconds ago, he couldn’t think of anything to say, and now he wouldn’t shut up. “Actually, I’m waiting for her now. She had to work late because you know, she’s… a nurse.” He tried to ignore the glares from Grantaire and Courfeyrac and focused his attention on Amelie.

“Wow,” Amelie said, sounding genuinely surprised. “That’s so great. Um, how long have you been seeing her?”

“Oh, about five months. It’s getting pretty serious, I think. I mean, it’s been crazy few months, but she’s nice. And we live together now so.” What is happening to him?

Amelie seemed to be conflicted upon hearing this. “That’s a bit surprising since it took you so long to finally let me live with you.”

“Yeah, well, this girl’s pretty special. We have some, uh, special connection… that is strong. Anyway, she’ll be here soon.”

“Well, I can’t wait to meet her.” She nodded and slowly made her way over to her model boyfriend.

“Jesus Christ, man, what did you do?” Grantaire hissed at him, as he buried his face in his hands.

“Have you been holding out on us? Have you really had a girlfriend all this time and didn’t tell us? Man, I thought we were tight!” Courfeyrac whined.

“Courf!” Enjolras snapped, forcing a flinch from both of them. “I was completely talking out of my ass back there, ok? Now help me!”

“Wait. The Genius Mr. Marble Man who believes that we are all beneath him, wants our help?” Courfeyrac asked dramatically.

Grantaire punched his friend in the gut. “This is serious, man. For once, don’t be an ass.”

“Alright, alright. Listen, Enjolras.” Courfeyrac nodded while whipping out his phone. “I have at least twenty different girls who can be here at a moment’s notice. The question is: Do you prefer blondes or brunettes? Or even a redhead? Gotta love the gingers, right?”

“Courfeyrac, if you speak another word, I’ll knock you into next Tuesday.” Enjolras threatened through gritted teeth.

“Hey, I’m trying to help!” He defended.

“But we can’t just get any girl.” Enjolras ran frustrated hands through his hair vigorously. “We need a girl who knows me, because Amelie _will_ ask questions. And we need someone who can actually put up with me for an hour or so.”

“Or you can just Amelie the truth and tell her you made the girlfriend thing up.” Grantaire suggested. How did he get to be the logical one all of a sudden?

“What, are you joking?” Courfeyrac gasped. “Enjolras, I know most of the time I give you shit, but this is the most real thing I will ever tell you. Never tell a girl that you didn’t mean what you said. Whether it was about an imaginary girlfriend or about your supposed favorite pair of oven mitts. Otherwise, them chicks will go all sorts of crazy on ya.”

“I may be drunker than I realized, but Courfeyrac has a point.” Grantaire then swigged down another huge swallow of liquor.

“Again, I need help.” Enjolras encouraged.

“Well, you’re the one being difficult right now, Enjolras.” Courfeyrac snapped. “You’re turning down all the girls I have on my phone, most of which would kill to go on a date with you. And we don’t know any other girls, because you, for some strange and unholy reason, despise the entirety of the female population. I mean, the only chicks we know well enough, are Amelie and Eponine!”

A moment of silence fell over the group of friends as Courfeyrac’s words began to seep in. They exchanged glances with each other.

Grantaire took another swig of beer. “For those following along at home, that’s twice now that Courf has said something accurate.”

Finally, Enjolras produced his cell phone from his pocket. “I’ve got to try.” He told himself aloud while dialing her number.

Meanwhile, Eponine was enjoying the nice and quiet apartment the boys had left her. She actually came out of her room and wandered into the kitchen for some ice cream or yogurt or whatever else was in the fridge. As she ransacked the fridge, she heard her phone ring on the kitchen counter. Enjolras hadn’t given her phone back, which was fine by her since she didn’t really want to talk to anyone. She eyed the phone pensively, thinking about whether or not to answer it.

She walked closer to it and saw Enjolras’ name on the screen. He was probably just calling to check on her or something. Shrugging it off and not touching it, she went to grab some Pillsbury cookie dough Grantaire had been saving for the fourth of July. _Why did I pick such an annoying ringtone?_ She thought as she fished out a spoon from a drawer. Sure enough, her phone rang again. Groaning, she glanced at the phone again, and saw that it was Grantaire this time. It was probably Enjolras using his phone, and she knew that he probably wouldn’t stop calling until she answered.

With a grunt, she answered it. “What?” Her voice still a little scratchy from her lack of speaking.

“Eponine, I need your help.” Enjolras said immediately.

“With what? How to communicate with a woman?” She said sarcastically.

“Um, well, close. I need you to be my pretend girlfriend.”

Eponine nearly dropped the phone. “Excuse me?”

“Look, I don’t really want to explain this over the phone, especially on Grantaire’s phone. So can you just come down to the Musain and wear something decent? I know that you aren’t exactly feeling up for something like this and I’m asking a lot, but, Eponine, I really need this right now. Can you just come and I’ll explain everything when I can?”

As she listened, her heart stirred. For the past week, she had felt nothing but pain and regret. Now she was feeling something that she hadn’t felt in a while. It was almost as if the cobwebs were coming loose. She felt sympathy. After a short pause, and before she could fully think it over, she answered, “Give me thirty minutes.”

>>>

Enjolras glanced at his watch for the third time in two minutes. Eponine had told him she would be there in thirty minutes, twenty-five minutes ago. He could see Amelie across the bar laughing and hitting shamelessly on her new boy toy, Henry. Saying that he was getting anxious would be an understatement.

“Seriously, quit checking your watch, Enjolras.” Grantaire scolded. “You’re starting to look like a schizophrenic.”

At that point, Musichetta came by their table with another round of beers, as ordered by Grantaire of course. “Here’s your drinks, boys.” She announced laying them in front of the three friends.

“Well, well, well.” Courfeyrac smiled sweetly leaning back on the seat he sat in. “If it isn’t the fairest maiden of them all.”

Musichetta rolled her eyes. “And if it isn’t the cheesy douchebag.” She returned his smile sarcastically.

“Oh, zing!” Grantaire giggled.

“Hey, remember? I’m not being a player. I’m just here at your leisure.” Courfeyrac said cooly.

She crossed her arms over her chest and smirked. “Do you know what I did with your number that you wrote down on a napkin, mister ‘leisure’?” She asked all too sweetly.

“Put it in a no-no zone?” Courfeyrac asked, earning a slap from Grantaire again. Enjolras was too busy watching the door to be concerned about what was happening.

Seemingly unphased by his crude comment, Musichetta answered, “I ate it.” And then she walked away, with Courfeyrac never taking his eyes off her.

“Man, if she keeps that up, I may just have to marry her.” Grantaire laughed.

“Oh, she wants me so bad.” Courfeyrac said absentmindedly.

“Dude, she just shoved a new one down your throat.” Grantaire said. “Maybe I’m the crazy one, but I’m pretty sure that means she doesn’t like you.”

“You underestimate the power of my charm.”

“Your charm?” Grantaire asked giving him a face. “You mean the same charm that got you shot down in the first place? Or are you referring to the same charm that you had on that airport cop?”

Courfeyrac held his hands up. “I just said she had a bomb-tastic ass! She’s the one who overreacted!”

“They held us both in that dark room for four hours! And I won’t even mention what they did to my collection of Panic! At the Disco CDs.”

“Whatever! The point is, I can totally hit that.”

Grantaire rolled his eyes, but then got an idea. “Alright, Courf.” He said slowly turning his head towards his friend with a mischievous look in his eye. “How about a little wager? If you can get her to give you her number before the end of the night, by free will, I will add, then I’ll give you $1,000.”

“Oh, I like this!” Courfeyrac squealed while rubbing his hands together.

“But!” Grantaire held up a hand to stop him from taking off. “If you lose, and you more than likely will, you have to buy my groceries for an entire week.”

“You’re on, Skeptical Sally!” He said, shaking Grantaire’s hand to seal the deal. “Now, watch and learn as the hook reels in the fish.” Courfeyrac then downed another drink of beer and then slunk off to pursue his new goal, leaving Grantaire a happy camper.

“Looks like I’m going to making lobster and steak next week.” He giggled to himself. He then noticed how Enjolras was not moving, turned halfway around and looking at the door. “Enjolras? What are you-?” Suddenly, it all became clear.

In the door stood Eponine. But not the same Eponine they had seen lying in bed and crying her eyes out lately. This Eponine was clean and her hair was brushed to perfection, her makeup done in a natural, but beautiful way. She wore a little black dress that not only complimented her curves but made her legs seem longer. Both Enjolras and Grantaire were speechless, and many other male patrons in the bar stopped to admire her as she walked to her pretend boyfriend.

“Hey, guys!” She greeted with a smile and leaned over to give Enjolras a peck on the cheek.

“Hey, yourself.” Grantaire mumbled. “Eponine, what happened?”

She looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“He means, you look incredible, Eponine.” Enjolras said, suddenly regaining his ability to speak. Again.

Eponine beamed. “Thank you. Well, you said you needed a fake girlfriend, so I needed to dress for the part. You don’t think it’s too much, do you?”

“No.” Both Enjolras and Grantaire insisted.

Laughing humbly, she turned to Enjolras expectantly. “So are you going to tell me what’s going on now?”

“Well, you see-”

“Richard.” Amelie interrupted once again. However, this time she wasn’t alone. Henry had his arm wrapped around her waist, sending a rotten feeling to the pit of Enjolras’ stomach. Upon seeing them, he threw his arm around Eponine’s shoulder. “This must be your new girlfriend.”

Eponine regarded the two of them carefully, noticing how her presence immediately made Enjolras stiffen and how she called him by his first name. She plastered a wide smile on her face and held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Eponine.” She introduced herself with a sugar-coated tone.

“It is certainly nice to meet you, Eponine. I’m Amelie.” Amelie shook her hand, with an icy glare but sugary smile. “And this is my boyfriend, Henry.” He held out his hand for her to shake, which was surprisingly soft.

“So how do you know, Enjy-poo, then?” Eponine asked, leaning on Enjolras lovingly. She had decided long ago that she was going to play this up good. Enjolras tried to hide a grimace at Eponine’s new nickname for him.

“Well, we used to go out.” Amelie answered. “But I think it’s safe to say that we’ve both moved on.”

“Yep. I know I sure have.” Enjolras spoke up. Meanwhile, Grantaire was pretending to wiping down the bar, trying his hardest not to laugh at this whole situation.

“So, uh, how did you two meet?” Henry asked conversationally.

Before Enjolras had a chance to speak, Eponine was already explaining. “Work. We met through work.”

Amelie’s eyebrows lifted. “You met each other through work? But Eny-poo said you’re a nurse.” It was hard to mistake the look of victory in her eyes.

Seeing a challenge, Eponine said, “Yeah, he had been called to the hospital where I work for some legal issues or whatever, and I happened to be working that day. We’ve been practically inseparable ever since.” She snuggled closer to Enjolras to add emphasis. Enjolras tried not to stiffen under her affection, but it was hard not to.

“It certainly appears that way.” Amelie said, regarding the couple’s interaction. “Well, it was really nice to meet you. But we have tickets to the Opera tonight, so we better get going.”

“Oh, the Opera!” Eponine squealed. “We’ve gone at least five times. It is simply amazing. We can’t get enough of it.”

“Really? I wouldn’t think Richard would be an opera enthusiast.”

“I’ve learn to love it, actually.” Enjolras answered. “Once you give it a chance, it is really quite beautiful.” 

“Yes.” Amelie said coldly. “We’ll see around then?”

“Indeed, you will.” Enjolras nodded curtly.

Eponine wanted to really get her, so she turned his head toward her. “Yeah, bye!” She waved at them, before connecting her lips with his in a big wet and dramatic kiss.

Amelie faltered a bit, before dragging Henry out of the bar. Grantaire smiled at their retreating figures. “Man, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Amelie that-”

He was cut off when he turned back towards his friends and saw they were still lip locked. Enjolras’ hand cupped her cheek, as Eponine ran her fingers through his mop of blonde curls. To anyone outside of the situation, they might have commented on how in love they were, how they truly never cared about anything else but each other. Grantaire suddenly felt extremely awkward and cleared his throat. “Um, guys. She’s gone.”

They reluctantly pulled apart, both gasping for air. “She’s gone?” Enjolras breathed, looking funny with smeared lipstick on his lips and his hair sticking out in odd places.

“Yeah, she left about an hour ago,” He joked. “Not that you two would’ve noticed.” Both Eponine and Enjolras blushed. Eponine reached into her bag and produced a hand mirror and a tube of lipstick and started to reapply a new layer. “You guys ought to win an Oscar for that performance.” Grantaire teased.

“Shut up!” Enjolras snapped wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “But do you think she bought it?”

“Bought it?” Grantaire laughed obnoxiously. “She bought that act like it was the last pair of shoes on Black Friday! Ep, you ought to be congratulated. Not many people can think on their feet as quickly as you did.”

Eponine shrugged nonchalantly, as she put her mirror and lipstick back in her purse. “This isn’t my first time being a fake girlfriend. You’d be surprised how many people ask me for that.”

“Well, I really appreciate it, Eponine. Thank you.” Enjolras said sincerely, looking her in the eye.

A small smile appeared on her face as she nodded. “You’re welcome. But now, I’m going to go get us a couple of drinks and you are going to explain everything to me.” She stood and made her way towards Musichetta.

When she saw the girl approaching, Musichetta smiled brightly. “What can I get for you, dearie?”

“Just a couple of Budweisers.” Eponine shrugged.

Musichetta nodded, but hesitated. “So, who’s the man candy you were sucking faces with just now?” She asked bluntly with a smile.

Eponine’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

“Honey, I’m no fool. I can see the chemistry... hell. I can _feel_ the chemistry you guys are putting out, and it’s enough to make a volcano to erupt.”

Blushing, Eponine lowered her eyes and fiddled with the bottom of her dress. “We were just pretending to be a couple. I’m guessing it was for an old girlfriend or something.”

“Wait, you didn’t even know why he needed a fake girlfriend? You just came anyway?”

“Yes.” Musichetta gave her a look. “It’s not what you think, though.”

She put her hands up. “Alright, alright. I’m not your mother.” Musichetta then leaned in closer and lowered her voice. “But sweetheart, that man is one fine catch and it’s obvious that he likes you. Take my advice and snatch him up before some other little belle comes rolling along and steals him away first.” She then laid the two beers on the counter in front of Eponine, and then goes down to where Courfeyrac is seated at the bar and starts back in a conversation as if nothing had happened.

Eponine regarded the redheaded girl carefully, before grabbing the beers and turning back to the table where Enjolras and Grantaire were at. As she returned to them, and Enjolras regaled his story of “what used to be” with Amelie, Musichetta’s words itched at the back of her mind.

Just as Enjolras was finishing up, Courfeyrac slowly sat down next to Grantaire again, with a red mark on his cheek, as if he had just been slapped. His face was downcast, which was very unlike him. “Did you just get hit?” Eponine asked concerned.

Courfeyrac nodded slowly. “Yep.”

“Dude, was that from Musichetta?” Grantaire asked, trying to get a closer look at the red hand mark on his friend’s cheek.

He nodded again. “Apparently, my charm doesn’t really have a filter.”

“And you’re just now realizing this?” Grantaire teased, hoping to get a smile at least from him.

“Well, it hasn’t really been a problem before now.” Courfeyrac shrugged his shoulders. “Can we just go home now?”

“Yeah, let’s go.” Eponine said, rising out of her chair and putting a hand on his shoulder. “Do you wanna tell us what happened?”

Courfeyrac shook his head. “I don’t get it. All I did was show her my amazing bilingual skills as a romantic gesture and she got all mad.”

“What exactly did you say?” Enjolras asked.

“Well, I took a couple years of French in high school, and it turns out she has family in France and is practically fluent. So, I thought it would be nice to show her that I knew the language…”

“Courf, what _exactly_ did you say?” Eponine repeated.

After a short pause, he sighed. “I said, ‘ _Votre visage est comme un cochon qui a été allongé au soleil toute la journée.’_ And then she slapped me.”

Eponine laughed hysterically, while the others just stared at her. “Oh, come on. Neither of you took French?”

“I took Spanish.” Enjolras stated.

“And I’m just drunk. I don’t know how to properly speak English right now.” Grantaire said.

“But why is that so funny?” Courfeyrac asked somewhat frustratedly. “All I said was that her face reminded me of a beautiful sunset.”

Eponine held back more laughs, before saying, “Courf, you literally told her, ‘Your face is like a pig that has been laying in the sun all day.’”

At the sound of this, Grantaire laughed obnoxiously. Even Enjolras had trouble maintaining a straight face. “So, I guess this means that you’re buying the groceries.” Grantaire said, slapping his friend on the shoulder. “How does pig sound?”


	10. Stars

Grantaire plopped on the couch and turned on the TV, squealing when he saw that _Supernatural_ was on. Eponine went to the kitchen to fix herself some tea, while rolling her eyes at the jumping overly happy man on the couch, screaming something about demons and angels. After some severe begging, Eponine reluctantly sat down next to Grantaire and watched it with him.

“Holy shit!” Eponine gasped, about two minutes into watching it.

Grantaire nodded knowingly. “Welcome to Supernatural, my dear ‘Ponine. Where ‘Holy Shit’ is our catchphrase, along with ‘Son of a Bitch’ and ‘Screw you, Kripke’.”

They watched in awe as the episode played out, concerned about nothing else. Soon, the episode was over and they were venting out their feelings. “How have I gone so long and never even heard of this show?” Eponine exclaimed.

“So, you like it, then?” Grantaire asked, with a dopey grin.

“Like it? I feel like my whole life has been a lie up until this point!”

He giggled excitedly. “I’m so glad you like it! Every time I try to get Enjolras to watch it, he just overanalyzes everything and points out the flaws in either the characters or the visual effects.”

Eponine was then reminded of her other roommates and felt like she should go check on them. “Speaking of which, where did that little rascal run off to?” She asked standing up and stretching.

“He’ll probably be on the roof.” Grantaire said carelessly, flipping through the other channels.

“We have a roof?” Eponine asked. He nodded. “How come I’m just now hearing about this?”

“You never asked.” She then proceeded to hit him with a couch pillow.

She went to open the front door and was immediately met by a young blonde girl on the other side, her fist raised as if she was about to knock on the door. “Um, am I in the right place?” She asked confusedly.

Eponine rolled her eyes. “Courfeyrac!” She shouted over her shoulder.

He clammered out of his room and calmly leaned on the door, his usual suave self on display. “Stacy.” He greeted. “Welcome to my home.” He grabbed her hand and kissed it, as if he was a knight in shining armor.

The blonde girl, Stacy, smiled at him but then looked back at Eponine. “So, are we having a threesome then?” She asked seriously.

Eponine groaned and pushed past her to go to the stairs in the hallway. “Oh, that’s disgusting. Jar!” She shouted as she went by.

“I didn’t say anything!” Courfeyrac protested.

“Not you. Her.” Eponine pointed, turning back towards the two of them. “And being the gentleman that you are, you will pay for her.”

“I don’t understand.” Stacy remarked aloud. Although, no one really acknowledged her.

“Fine!” Courfeyrac grunted childishly. “But just know this, Eponine. I’m not entirely against the idea.”

Eponine had heard enough, feeling like she would almost vomit. “Jar, jar, jar!” She exclaimed as she went up the stairs.

She reached the top and opened the door to the roof and was met with a crisp summer evening. There were small trees that stood in pots along the perimeter, stringing with white Christmas lights around them to illuminate the area. A couple of lawn chairs sat in the middle with a small table in between them. A wooden box was off to the side, undoubtedly a garden, though it looked as though no one had tended to it in decades. On the other side, Eponine saw Enjolras sitting on a bench staring out into the night, his back turned to her. By the looks of it, he didn’t even know she was here.

Carefully, she made her way to him, but while she did, she tripped over a rake and fell to the ground with a bang. The commotion caused Enjolras back to reality and he turned to see what had caused it. Unfortunately for her, she was still wearing that dress from the bar, and in her fall, it had risen up, revealing her panties that read ‘King Me’ on the butt.

“What the- whoa!” Enjolras exclaimed, turning his head away quickly, partly out of respect for her and partly so she wouldn’t see him blush. “Eponine, what are you doing up here?”

Eponine suddenly felt very embarrassed and quickly pushed her dress down over her butt. “Inspecting the ground. What do you think, dumbass?”

“All due respect, I’m not the one who’s sprawled out on the floor. with my butt hanging out.”

She rolled her eyes. “Can you please just be a gentleman and help me up?”

He swallowed thickly and hesitated. “Are you… Is your… I mean, are you decent?”

Eponine huffed annoyed. “Yes, Grandpa. Now help me up!” She extended her hand toward him, as he turned his head carefully. After seeing that she was in fact decent, he grabbed her hand and pulled her onto her feet. “Thank you.” She said, trying to smooth herself out.

“What on earth were you thinking?” Enjolras asked.

“Well, I was trying to come up with something witty to do or say, but then that damn rake decided to play footsie!”

Trying to hide a smirk, he gestured for her to sit down, which she did. “Yeah, but why did you come up here in the first place?” He asked.

“To look for you.”

“And how did you-”

“Grantaire told me.”

Enjolras nodded in understanding. “Ah.”

“Now, why are you up here?” She asked, jabbing a finger in his arm.

Enjolras turned back towards the sky. “I needed to think for a bit.” He said pensively.

“So what? This place is like your mind palace?” Eponine asked, looking around.

“If that’s what you want to call it.”

Eponine turned to see the sight before them. Living in Los Angeles, there wasn’t a lot of peace and quiet. But with all the city lights shining bright into the night, and stream of white and red lining the highways, it was very beautiful and somewhat calming. She could see why he liked it up here so much. “Is it about Amelie?” She asked, after a long pause.

He looked at her, and then back to the city below. “Among other things.” He said vaguely.

“Well, that really clears things up. Thanks.” She joked lightly, to which he just smiled. “Seriously, though. What’s on your mind?”

Enjolras wanted to tell her exactly what he was thinking. And that was new. Never in his whole life, not even to his closest friends, has he ever felt compelled to tell them everything. When he was with Amelie, he was almost afraid to speak his mind, worrying that she might judge him or analyze him. That wasn’t what he felt around Eponine. He felt free, yet safe. But why? He hardly knew this girl. She had only been living with them for a month and here he was, feeling completely safe and knowing that no matter what he said, she would listen and not judge. That was part of the reason why he needed to think. He needed to sort out his thoughts and feelings for Eponine. “Yeah.” He finally said, half lying. “I was thinking about Amelie.”

Eponine nodded, choosing her next words carefully. “You know, forgive me if this is out of place, but from the sounds of things, and my general impression, she doesn’t really seem… well, nice.”

“She can be.” Enjolras told her. “But she can also be very judgmental.”

“So what drew you to her in the first place?”

Enjolras shrugged. “I don’t really know. All I really know is that one day she was there and telling me what to do. For a young, lost and confused boy that I was, she seemed like an angel sent to guide me. And she was. She sobered me up and got me to get serious about my studies and basically just turned my whole life around. The whole dating thing just sort of... happened, without a real discussion or anything. But once it was official, I felt as though I owed her, since she had done so much for me. And somehow, being her boyfriend seemed like it was good enough. But she started getting way more controlling, and practically told me where to step and what to say. Of course, I never saw it, with me being the victim. But Grantaire did, and he tried endlessly to split us up or tell me to break up with her. I always thought that he was just being overdramatic. It’s funny, but no matter how controlling she got, I still consider her my angel and she knew what was best for me.” He glanced at Eponine, and then looked down in shame. “I’m sure that all sounds really pathetic.”

“No, I get it.” She told him.

He lifted his head again and met her eyes. “You do?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “The same thing sort of happened with me and Montparnasse.” Eponine tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and glanced at her feet. She had never really told anyone about how Montparnasse and her came to be, at least not truthfully. Usually, she would change the story every time, varying from “opposites attract” to “love at first sight”. But with Enjolras, she felt as comfortable around him as he did around her. And that was almost unbelievable.

He must have seen her hesitate a tiny bit, because he motioned for her to tell him. “Go on.”

Taking a deep breath, the words started pouring out of her mouth. “We’ve been friends as far back as I can remember. He lived right across the street when we were kids, and my parents never gave me the time of day, and neither did his, so we spent a lot of time together. But in high school, he started hanging around the wrong type of guys and got drunk a lot. And when he’d get drunk, he was very demanding and, well... less than loving. But then when he sobered up, he would practically cry and apologize over and over again, swearing he would never drink again. But that only lasted until the next night, when he would go out and get drunk again. I tried to fix him and tell him that I lo... cared about him and he didn’t need to behave this way, but he just wouldn’t listen. I figured if we started to date, he would listen to me more, but it didn’t. And I kept telling myself that there was still a chance to save him, that I could have the old ‘Parnasse back if I just tried harder or loved him more. Then, when I found out he was cheating on me, that’s when I realized that he didn’t need saving. Montparnasse would never change, and I couldn’t do anything about it.” Tears started to form in the corner of her eyes, but she quickly wiped them away, refusing to cry.

Enjolras somehow knew that she had hardly told anyone that and knew how hard it probably was hard to say all of that. Before he realized what he was doing, he wrapped his arms around her, tucking her head under his chin. She accepted his embrace, but still refused to let herself cry. They just sat in silence for a while, holding each other for different reasons. Finally, Enjolras spoke up. “Why did you tell me all of that?”

He felt her stiffen in his arms and she broke away, although both of them found it extremely hard to do. She looked at him, shaking her head and shrugged. “I don’t know.” She said, honestly. “I guess I just trust you or something.”

A grin formed on Enjolras’ face. A rare crack in the marble physique. “Thank you.” He said quietly.

“For what?” She asked.

“Well, first of all, for telling me that, because I know it must have been hard. And… also, for coming up here.”

She smirked. “And why do I need to be thanked for that?”

“You’re a good friend, Eponine.” Enjolras told her sincerely. “Actually, you’re probably the first girl who I’ve considered to be my friend.”

“Well, I’m honored.” She replied, smiling brightly. “I just don’t have a lot of friends in general, so I’ll take what I can get.” She laughed at herself, trying to lighten the mood.

“I don’t believe that for a second.” He smiled.

“It’s true. I don’t really like a lot of people and a lot of people don’t really like me.”

“Come on. You’re awesome and funny. Lots of people like funny and awesome people.”

Eponine blushed brightly. “Well, you’d be surprised.”

Suddenly, he reached out grabbed her hand and squeezed. This caused her to look at their hands and then back to him. He could almost get lost in those chocolate brown eyes of hers. “I’m glad that you’re my friend, Eponine. Really.”

His ocean blue eyes shone brighter than the city below them, making Eponine’s inside flutter ever so slightly. “And I’m glad that you’re my friend, Enjolras.” She said, adding, “Really.” at the end, making him smile. She would never admit it out loud, but she loved his smile. It was one of those Hollywood smiles that a celebrity would flash at anyone, and instantly a million cameras would go off at once, trying to capture its perfection.

They stared at each other for a while, just drinking up the other person’s presence, neither one willing to let go of the other person’s hand. Then, suddenly, the door to the attic burst open, making the two jump to their feet. Courfeyrac and his booty call, Stacy, were in a tight embrace, sucking on each other’s faces and giggling.

“Courf!” Eponine and Enjolras scolded in unison. The embracing couple broke apart and looked at the other two.

“What?!” Courfeyrac asked, at a loss for breath. “Grantaire kicked us out because we were ‘disrupting his Supernatural time’. And we can’t do it in the hallway. Again. So where else are we going to go?”

“You could just keep it in your pants, for once.” Eponine replied.

He snorted. “Yeah, right. And Grantaire could just stop drinking altogether.”

Stacy was apparently growing impatient, for she started to pepper Courfeyrac’s neck and cheek with wet kisses. “Are we going to do this or not?” She whimpered.

“You bet.” He growled at her. Then, he turned to Enjolras and Eponine. “Look, this is going to happen one way or another. You can stay and watch or-”

Instantly, both of them stood up and booked it to the door. “Ew! No!” They groaned as they pushed past them.

“Jar!” Enjolras scolded.

“Aw, but I already owed Eponine double!” He complained after them.

“You should have thought of that before you ‘douched’ out!” Enjolras slammed the door behind him, and he and Eponine went back to the apartment, trying to forget about what had just happened on the roof.


	11. So Many Things Unclear

“What the hell is an oregano?” Courfeyrac asked, looking over Grantaire’s grocery list. Eponine rolled her eyes. She wasn’t exactly sure how she had gotten roped into going grocery shopping with him, since he had lost the bet with Grantaire. But she figured that he would get confused about the items on the list or get the wrong items, making Grantaire upset. So, here she was, schooling Courfeyrac on the various spices and fruits that he had never heard of.

“It’s a spice, Courf.” She said, pushing their cart down the spice aisle.

Courfeyrac was getting increasingly frustrated by the minute and ran his hands through his unruly curls. “Ugh, why did I ever make that bet with R?”

“You’d think you would have learned not to by now.” She said absentmindedly, looking over the wall of spices.

“Yeah, but I’m tired of him always thinking he’s right. And man, Ep, Musichetta is the girl of my dreams. I think she might be the one.”

That snapped her to attention. “Dude, slow down. You barely know her, other than she’s abrasive and independent. I wouldn’t go calling ‘the one’ until you actually know her.”

“You have a point.” He nodded in consideration. “But she’s the first girl not to fall for my magical charm. And I just can’t help but pursue her.”

“Yeah, with that ever-growing ego, you’re quite a catch.” Eponine muttered, grabbing oregano off the shelf.

“Thank you, Ep.” He beamed brightly.

“That wasn’t a compliment.” She deadpanned. “What’s next on the list?”

His eyes glanced back to Grantaire’s drunken handwriting. “Jesus, ten pounds of hamburger meat!” He exclaimed, as Eponine started to push the cart towards the meat section. “What, is he expecting a natural disaster anytime soon?”

“He’s just taking advantage of you buying the groceries, Courf.” She said, rounding a corner. Just then, another cart smashed into hers, startling both pushers. “Oh, my god. I’m sorry.” Eponine gasped, before looking to the other person she had just run into. Although, as soon as she did, she regretted it immediately. Her eyes met a pair of all too familiar doe eyes.

“Ep?” Cosette greeted softly, as if she was glad to see her again.

Eponine felt her heart leap up into her throat and fought the urge to cry. “Cosette.” She struggled to say.

“Well, hello, pretty lady.” Courfeyrac chimed. “We meet again.”

Cosette rolled her eyes but laughed. “Hello, Courf.” She greeted curtly.

Awkward silence fell among the three of them. Eponine wanted to scream and run away but she couldn’t find the strength to move. Instead, she kept her eyes fixed on her shoes, avoiding Cosette’s gaze. Finally, Courfeyrac cleared his throat. “Um, I’m going to get some meat.” He said awkwardly. “I’m sure you ladies have some catching up to do.”

Eponine shot him a death glare, but he merely winked and sauntered away, leaving the two of them alone. “Well, it was nice to see you again, Cosette.” Eponine nodded politely, and started to push the cart away, but Cosette caught her arm.

“Ep, can we please talk?” She pleaded, her large blue eyes peering into Eponine’s soul. No wonder so many men have found her attractive. Those eyes were enough to stun a mammoth.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Eponine shrugged.

“Come on, Eponine. You know we have to eventually.”

“Actually, I’ve been doing just fine pushing everything down and ignoring it. So, if you excuse me…”

“Please stop.” Cosette asked quietly, maintaining her iron grip on her friend’s arm.

“I have nothing to say to you, Cosette.” Eponine sighed.

“But I do. Okay, I was a jerk. No, I was more than that. I was a dick. I just had no idea that Marius was your date and I… I’m just so sorry, Eponine.”

She looked into her friend’s eyes wanting to forgive her, wanting her old friend back. But everything hurt when she looked at Cosette. She saw Marius whenever she looked at her. And it killed her. “Are you still with him?” She asked.

Cosette hesitated. “That’s not really important…”

“Oh, my god.” Eponine tried to walk away again, but Cosette held her still.

“Ep, I’m sorry. Okay? I just, I really like him. And I hate how much I like him. I want to hate him, because he was with you first and then he went after me. And I’ve tried to forget about him and everything. It’s just, he makes me feel special.”

“Well, don’t let me ruin your ‘special’ relationship.” Eponine snapped. “In fact, forget that you even know me.”

“I can’t do that. Eponine.” She shook her head, still speaking softly. “I want us to be friends again. I miss you. I miss hearing you make fun of all the models I work with or dragging me to every greasy burger place in the city. But I totally get it if you don’t want that anymore. I know I’ve hurt you, and I know that you’ve been hurt so many times before, but you know me, Ep. I didn’t try to stab you in the back. That was never my intention and that never will be.”

Eponine shook her head but looked at Cosette. She did want her best friend back. She never really had a whole lot of girls that were friends in her life, but Cosette was always there for her, so she felt as though she didn’t need anymore. Ever since they were kids, Cosette had always had Eponine’s back. “I miss you, too.” She admitted. “But I just, I don’t really want to hear about Marius or see him for that matter.”

Cosette smiled. “And you won’t have to. It can just be you and me for as long as you need it. So, are we good?”

Smiling in reassurance, Eponine nodded. “Yeah, we’re good.” She held up her pinky finger, to which Cosette hooked her own pinky onto it and started to do their secret handshake. Both girls laughed and hugged afterwards, just glad to be friends again.

>>>

Meanwhile, back the apartment, Enjolras was in his room on his computer, trying to get his mind off of Eponine. He had replayed their conversation on the roof over and over again in his head. It wouldn’t stop. He found it extremely annoying and frustrating. Eponine was just a friend and a roommate, nothing more. So why can’t he stop thinking about her? Why does he feel flustered every time she’s near him? He had hardly slept that night, pondering these questions. Enjolras rubbed his tired blue eyes and sighed. What was going on with him?

Just then, his phone rang on the desk next to his computer, snapping him back to reality. Without reading who was calling, he answered it. “Hello?” He sighed.

“Richard?”

Instantly, Enjolras stiffened. “Amelie?” What was she doing calling him?

“Richard, I need your help.” She said, her voice sounding shaky as though she had been crying.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” He asked, genuinely concerned.

“Henry broke up with me, and I don’t have cab fare. I’m sorry to ask this of you, but you were the first one I thought of. Can you give me a lift home?”

Enjolras was frozen for a split second. All the feelings and thoughts that had been about Eponine vanished, and the feelings that he realized he still had for Amelie flooded in. “Of course. I’ll be there in five minutes.”

And he was. He pulled the car up to the address she had given him, and she slid in the car quietly. “Are you okay?” He asked softly, touching her hand tenderly.

She gave his hand a squeeze and then gave him a small smile. “Yeah, I just want to go home.”

He nodded. “Okay.” He let go of her hand to put the car in gear and pull onto the street.

They rode in silence for a while. Amelie kept her gaze down, trying not to look at him, while he tried to do the same, as he thought back to their college days. Before they started dating, Amelie would always call him if she ever had a fight with her father. She lived with her father for the first couple of years of college to save money from living in the dorms. However, her father was really strict and hardly ever approved of anything she did. Amelie wanted to become a veterinarian, but her father wanted her to go into business to try and make some money, since their family had always been short on finances. When she got a full ride to the local college, her father forced her to major in business, and Amelie resented him every day because of it.

Their fights were frequent and took a major toll on Amelie. Enjolras sympathized with her, since his father was super strict with him too, and offered to be her shoulder to cry on. So, she would call him practically every night, and he would pick her up and bring her back to his dorm room. After a couple weeks of this pattern, they decided that they were practically a couple anyway and decided to live together. And since Enjolras’ father owned a few apartment buildings around the city, they were able to do so. 

“So, do you want to talk about it?” He asked, trying to clear the tension.

She shook her head. “Guys are just jerks.” She exhaled.

“Oh, gee. Thanks, Amelie.” He joked lightly.

“You know what I mean.” Amelie smiled slightly at him. “You have never been a jerk to me.”

“Well, you don’t deserve jerks, Amelie. God knows, you’ve been exposed to too many in the past. And you’ve helped me in so many ways that being a jerk to you would make me, well, a jerk.”

She regarded him carefully, and he knew that she was looking at him. He tried to fix his eyes on the road and not blush, but it was growing increasingly difficult not to. “That’s sweet of you, Rich.” She remarked. She had always insisted on calling him by his first name. Normally, he would practically cringe if anyone had called him “Richard”. But when Amelie said it, it was… acceptable.

Finally, he pulled up to her apartment building and came to a stop. Amelie took her seat belt off and turned to him. “Thanks for ride.” She smiled.

“Anytime, Amelie. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I will be.” She reached out and touched his hand, which sent shivers down Enjolras’ spine. He looked into her ice blue eyes and felt ten years younger. “You’re a great friend, Richard.” He heard her say, but it was as if her voice was muffled. All he could focus on was her lips. And before he knew it, he leaned forward and crashed his lips onto hers.


	12. Don Juan

The next day, Grantaire was up earlier than usual, busy making brunch that smelled absolutely mouth-watering. So mouth-watering Eponine woke up to find a gigantic drool spot on her pillow. After slipping on her duck slippers, she shuffled out into the kitchen, following the scent of food and Grantaire’s humming.

“What in the name of all holy things are you making, R?” She asked. “It smells amazing.”

Grantaire turned from the stove towards his friend and smiled widely. “I found this recipe online, and I wanted to try it out. And thanks to Courf buying the groceries, I have all the ingredients I need.” He said cheerfully, stirring the contents boiling in a pan. 

“What is it then?”

“Ah, ah, ah,” He waved a teasing finger. “A good magician never reveals his secrets. An artist does not explain his masterpiece. An inventor does not…”

“So it’s a surprise?” She cut him off, brewing some coffee.

“Well, yeah, if you want to dumb it down like that.” He grumbled.

Eponine chuckled and shook her head. At that point, there was a loud bang that caused both Grantaire and Eponine to jump. “What the hell was that?” She gasped.

“Don’t know, don’t care. I’m in the middle of something, Ep.” He shrugged, leaning over to taste the contents in the pan.

“It sounded like it came from Courf’s room.” She said, trying to pique his interest.

He straightened up, took a deep breath, and turned to face her. “Ep, he probably just hit his head on his closet door again. Or some girl he slept with last night just tripped over his collection of Italian leather shoes. Either way, I have no interest in investigating. I have been burned by that before. Besides, there is something a little bit more important for me to put my focus on.” He gestured to the pan and went back to stirring.

Eponine rolled her eyes. “I’m just going to go see if he’s alright.” She put her coffee mug down and slinked off to Courfeyrac’s room.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Grantaire called after her.

Ignoring that last comment, she took a step closer to Courfeyrac’s door. She could hear a muffled conversation, but the voices were too low to make out any words. There was someone in there alright. Unless he was talking to himself. Knocking lightly on the door, Eponine called, “Courf? Are you okay in there?”

There was a slight pause before he answered. “Uh, yeah, Ep. I’m fine.”

“I heard a loud bang. Did you hurt yourself?” She asked still curious. Courfeyrac usually put the girls he slept with on display for everyone in the apartment to see. It was not normal for him to be hiding her.

The sound of someone muttering something in an urgent tone tickled at Eponine’s ears. “Yes, I just tripped. But I’ll be okay.”

“You sure?”

“Dammit, Ep!” He snapped. “I said I’m fine.”

Eponine visibly recoiled at his tone. “Fine.” She replied curtly. She turned to leave but stopped herself. Something was wrong, she just knew it. He never yelled at her for any reason, unless she was standing in front of the TV. Not to mention that voice in the room was definitely there. Courfeyrac was not alone. Then, despite her better judgement, she flung his bedroom door open, but then immediately regretted it. “Holy shit!” She exclaimed.

There, laying on the bed clutching Courfeyrac’s silk sheets to her chest, was Musichetta, her red hair twisted and sticking up in all sorts of places. Her lipstick was smudged and there was a noticeable trail of hickies on her shoulder. Courfeyrac was lying next to her, but upon hearing the door fly open, he jumped and fell off the bed. He landed with a thud laying in his stomach, exposing his bare ass to Eponine. “Chetta?” Eponine gasped.

“Dammit, Eponine!” Courfeyrac cursed, trying to push himself off the ground. “Did you forget about the concept of knocking?”

Eponine averted her eyes away from Courf’s white ass and felt like she would be sick. “I’ll just come back later.” She said, running from the doorway. She ran to the kitchen sink and splashed some water on her face.

Next to her, Grantaire snickered. “I told ya.”

Musichetta stumbles out of Courfeyrac’s room, in the middle of pulling her sweatshirt over herself. “I’m sorry.” She murmured as she made her way to the door, clearly embarrassed by the whole ordeal.

“‘Chetta, wait!” Courfeyrac called after and ran into the hall, wearing nothing but his red boxers.

“Whoa!” Grantaire yelled, averting his eyes away. “Courf, put on some pants, buddy. This isn’t a nudist colony.”

Ignoring Grantaire, he was able to block the door before Musichetta had a chance to escape. “Please, don’t go.” He begged breathless.

“Get out of my way before I kick you in your sweet spot.” She demanded through clenched teeth.

“I don’t care!” He declared. “Normally, I’m all for one-night stands. In fact, I would go as far as calling me the ‘King of One-Nighters’. But ‘Chetta, you’re the first woman I’ve ever been with that makes me want more than that.”

“Courfeyrac, stop.” She said, in a slightly softer tone. “Last night was a mistake. I was just feeling lonely and you happened to be there. This is my fault, so just please, get out of the way while I still have some dignity.” She pushed him aside as if he was made of paper and stormed out before Courfeyrac had a chance to think.

“Not to ruin the moment or anything,” Grantaire said, as Courfeyrac turned to see Eponine and Grantaire peeking around the corner. It was obvious that they had seen and heard everything. “But dude, since when were you banging ‘Chetta?”

“Shut up.” He grumbled, all the fight gone out of him.

Eponine went to him with sympathy in her eyes. “You really like her, don’t you?” She asked. He nodded somberly.

“Oh, man! Courf’s in love!” Grantaire chuckled.

“I said, shut up, R!” Courfeyrac snapped.

“Oh, wait until Enjolras gets a load of this. He’ll flip his lid.” He giggled making his way to Enjolras’ room.

A thought occurred to Eponine at that moment. “Yeah, where is that guy? He can’t still be asleep after all of that commotion.”

“You’d be surprised, actually.” Courfeyrac explained. “He’s been known to be a heavy sleeper. He once slept through my New Year’s party. Didn’t so much as stir in his sleep.”

“Yeah, but he’s going to be sorry he missed this.” Grantaire said, knocking on the lawyer’s door. “Hey, Enjolras! Get up! You’ll never guess what just happened.”

“I just want to go and sleep my shame away.” Courfeyrac moaned.

“No, stay.” Grantaire demanded. “I want you to see his face when we tell him. Enjolras!” He pounded on the door harder this time. “Get your lazy ass up! You’ll sleep the day away!” Silence fell on the other side of the door. “Enjolras?” He knocked one more time. Still nothing.

“He must really be out of it.” Eponine speculated.

Grantaire chuckled again. “He must have worked himself too hard again. I keep telling him that working late all the time is not healthy, but of course, he doesn’t listen to me.” He turned the doorknob and opened the door. “Enjolras, seriously, man. Wake up.”

Everyone stood in the door amazed. The bedroom was empty. Neat and organized, but empty. Almost as if no one had lived there at all. But before they could freak out or guess who kidnapped him, they heard the front door again. As they quietly moved to investigate, they ran into Enjolras, who’s usually organized chaotic blonde hair was sticking up in all sorts of directions. It was definitely not like him at all.

“What the hell happened to you?” Courfeyrac asked.

It was obvious that Enjolras had hoped he could just slip in without them noticing. He was nearly breathless and his eyes were wide. Not to mention, the dark shade of red that spread across his perfect face. “Jesus! I just… was at work really late.” He stuttered.

Eponine caught a whiff of a scent that smelled so familiar. “Enjolras, are you wearing perfume?” She asked.

“No!” He said too quickly. “I mean, why would I ever-”

“Is that lipstick on your face?” Grantaire asked, leaning in to take a closer look.

Enjolras quickly wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “Really, guys, I’m tired. I just want to-”

“Dude, did you bang some chick last night?” Courfeyrac asked, already knowing the answer. For the man who had earlier referred to himself as the ‘King of One-Nighters’, he knew the tall-tell signs of a one-night stand.

“I-di-I mean… you-” He stammered, turning an even darker shade of red.

“Oh, my god!” All three roommates exclaimed in unison, but with different inflections. Courfeyrac beamed with pride and Eponine looked shocked, while Grantaire just looked confused.

“I don’t appreciate the term, ‘banging’, Courf.” Enjolras snapped. “Like I said, I’m tired.” He tried yet again to sneak away to his room, to no avail.

“Who did you sleep with, Enj?” Eponine asked. She had never really thought of him as the, well, having sex kind of guy.

“That’s none of your business.” He objected defensively.

“You had sex?” Grantaire asked, still entirely confused. “Like real sex?”

“I’m so proud of you, man!” Courfeyrac exclaimed, slapping him on the back. “I’m going to make you my new wingman.”

“I’m sorry, I’m still am trying to wrap my head around this,” Grantaire continued. “You actually had sex.”

“Why are you so secretive all of a sudden?” Eponine questioned further.

Suddenly, they all started talking at once. Enjolras grunted and pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. “Fine! You win! I slept with Amelie! You all happy now?” He yelled, this time pushing them all out of his way and slamming the door behind him, leaving the rest of the roommates shocked and silent.

Enjolras ignored the whispers outside of his bedroom and fell on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He went over what happened last night in his head. It was almost as if he was back in college again, and that they had never broken up. There was an undeniable chemistry between them. But why had he kissed her? Not even that, he could have just left it at that. But no, he went and slept with her and snuck out of her apartment while she was still asleep. He knew that Amelie would call him the minute she woke up and couldn’t find him, and he was dreading it. What was he supposed to say? What was supposed to happen next?

It wasn’t long before there was a soft knock on the door. Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Go away!” He yelled, placing a pillow over his head. He just wanted the world to leave him alone for five minutes.

The door opened anyway, and a scent of potatoes and bacon filled the room. “Enjolras?” Eponine asked softly, being careful not to upset him further.

He lifted the pillow from his face and looked at her, curious as to what smelled so good. “What is it?”

“I just thought you could use some brunch.” She said, nodding to the plate in her hands. “Grantaire made it, and he kinda wants you to taste it.”

“Why does he always want my opinion on his cooking?” He grunted.

“Because you’ll give him a straight answer. Courf and I will eat anything he cooks, even fried goat. But you are more particular about what you eat. And you’re always honest, and he really appreciates it.”

Enjolras rolled onto his side, turning his back to her. “I’m not that hungry. Tell him to save the plate and I’ll eat it later.”

“Okay.” Eponine grabbed the doorknob, but stopped. “Do you wanna talk about it?” She dared to ask.

Enjolras had had enough at that point. With a grunt, he sat up and looked directly at her, a fire blazing in his blue eyes. “No! I don’t want to talk about it, Eponine. I don’t even want to remember it. I do not want to delve into the details of my personal life to a girl who a few weeks ago was confused about sex. At any moment, Amelie is going to call me and want to talk about whatever happened last night, and I don’t even know what I am going to say. But one thing for sure, is that I am not going to express aloud the details of last night for every creeper in this goddamned apartment to hear! So, if you excuse me, Eponine, I am going to die in my sleep to save myself from any further misery or embarrassment.” At that point, he flopped down on his back and threw a pillow over his head, signaling his level of “done”.

Eponine tried not feel the sting of his words. She knew that he was just frustrated and confused. But as much as she tried to deny it, those words had an effect on her. He might as well as throw a brick at her head. As she stood there in the doorway, frozen by his words, Eponine struggled to figure out her next move. She must have been lingering too long, because Enjolras mumbled underneath the pillow, “You can leave now, Ep.”

“I’m leaving.” She finally said. “You know, Enjolras. The purpose of having friends is to rely on each other, to have each other’s back. And as much as we tease each other, we still care about everyone. Grantaire and Courfeyrac only kid around with you because they don’t know how else to handle these kinds of situations. Now, I get that you want to figure things out and want some alone time. That’s totally fine. But don’t shut us out, Enjolras, and don’t make us out to be your enemy. Because we’re not. And if you keep pushing us away, one day, you’re going to wake up and we’re going to be gone.” She slammed the door behind her.

She walked to the kitchen where Grantaire and Courfeyrac were quietly eating their meal, clearly having heard everything. She placed Enjolras’ plate on the counter. “He said he’ll eat it later.” She told them, before walking back to her room and shutting the door behind her.

The two men glanced at each other, still trying to process what had all happened. Finally, Courfeyrac crackled his goofy smile. “Man, with all the drama that’s been going here lately, we ought to have a reality show.”


	13. Lonely Soul

“Hand me the wrench,” Grantaire held out his hand to Courfeyrac. They had both been trying to fix a clog in the kitchen sink for last two hours. They had consulted many YouTube videos and even tried to wing it, but it had proven to be more of a challenge than either one of them had previously thought.

“Which one is the wrench?” Courfeyrac asked, examining their toolbox closely.

“Are you serious, dude? It’s the one with the clamp.”

He rolled his eyes and handed it to his friend. “Alright, you don’t need to get testy.”

Eponine walked into the kitchen at that point. “Hey, guys.” She paused when she saw them on the floor. “On a scale of 1 to 10, how concerned should I be right now?”

“We are trying to fix the sink.” Courf explained.

“Okay, so a solid 6, then?” She asked.

“You don’t happen to come from a family of plumbers, do you?” Grantaire asked while grunting at the pipe that was not coming loose.

“Do you know that phones exist?” Eponine stepped over them and made her way to the fridge. “And so do actual plumbers who know how to do this sort of thing?”

“Those con artists?” Grantaire scoffed. “They charge you an arm and a leg for just adjusting one pipe. I think we can handle a little pipe work.”

A giggle escaped Courfeyrac. When he realized that his two roommates were staring at him curiously, he held out his hands innocently. “What? A little pipe work. It’s funny.”

Eponine rolled her eyes all the way to the back of her head, while Grantaire asked what was wrong with him.

At that point, Enjolras entered the kitchen, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Really guys?” He put his hands on his hips and gave a signature “disappointed dad” look. “Haven’t we learned this lesson already?”

“Learned what?” Eponine asked.

“Let’s just say, our toilet was once hooked up to a plastic bottle and a bottle opener.” Enjolras explained.

“It worked just fine until someone decided to punch a hole through the wall,” Courfeyrac defended.

“It cost us more than it would have to just call a plumber in the first place.” Their blonde friend scolded. “I’m calling a plumber now.” He grabbed the phone out of his pocket.

“Wait, I almost got it,” Grantaire gave one last twist of a pipe. “Try it now.”

Courfeyrac stood up and turned the faucet on. Water spewed out for about ten seconds before it cut off entirely. But after about ten seconds, the spigot fell off entirely and water flowed freely and violently. As the other three roommates struggled to get the spigot back on, Enjolras had already dialed the phone. “Yes, how soon can you send a plumber to this address?” He asked into the phone, after glaring at his friends.

>>>

A knock at the door confused everyone. “Is that the plumber already?” Eponine asked. But she still went to go answer it.

However, when she opened the door, it wasn’t a plumber. It was Amelie.

“Hi, Eponine,” Her voice in her usual icy tone with a fake friendly smile.

“Amelie?” It was more of an expression of shock than a question.

Upon hearing their voices, Enjolras flashed up to the door. “Amelie, hey. You’re early.”

“What the hell is she doing here, sweetie?” Eponine asked, staring daggers at her blonde roommate.

“It’s okay, Ep.” He told her. “She knows you’re not really my girlfriend.”

Confusion was at the forefront of her brain, as she heard Amelie enter her home. “Did you not tell them?” She asked Enjolras.

“Tell us what?” Courfeyrac and Grantaire came around the corner at that point, both holding tools in their hands.

Amelie jumped slightly. “Geez, you guys gave me a heart attack.”

“Pretty sure you need a heart to have that,” Grantaire muttered not at all quietly.

“What did you not tell us, Enj?” Eponine asked again, as Enjolras slugged his drunk friend in the arm.

“We’re back together.” Amelie announced while throwing her arms around the blonde man’s neck and giving him a loving kiss on the lips.

The three roommates could only stare at them in shock, horror, and disgust.

“Well, it’s just about beer o’clock so,” Grantaire shook his head and disappeared into the kitchen.

“Felicitations, to the happy couple,” Courfeyrac raised the wrench in his hand like a bottle. “And many more.” The tone in his voice was anything but congratulatory. He then followed his other friend into the kitchen.

Eponine remained, unable to move or think. “You’re really getting back together?” She asked.

Amelie pulled away from her embrace with Enjolras and turned to face her. “Yeah, well. It’s just that… we have so much history and it just seems to make sense. Right, Rich?”

“Yeah,” Enjolras answered curtly, refusing to look Eponine in the eye. Probably for the best since she was ready to beat him up. What happened to all that stuff he told her on the roof? Was it all a lie? Or did he really mean it and now he was letting her take back over for some reason?

“Well,” Amelie said, trying to break up the tension in the room. “We were going to go catch a movie. So we better go, because I don’t want to miss that pre-movie trivia.” She grabbed Enjolras by the wrist and dragged her behind him. “Come on, babe.”

Eponine watched him go, glaring daggers at him. He tried to flash her an apologetic look, but she did not accept it. “I’m sorry, Enjolras, but can I talk to you really quick?” She asked just before he crossed the threshold.

“We’re going to miss the pre-movie trivia,” He tried to say.

“It will only take a second,” Eponine insisted, flashing just an equally as fake smile as Amelie had given her earlier.

“It’s fine, Rich,” Amelie assured him. “I’ll go wait in the car. I trust you.”

His new girlfriend blew him a kiss and disappeared into the elevator.

“Wow, she trusts you.” Eponine commented. “That’s great that you already have that level of trust.”

“Eponine,”

“No, Enjolras. Did you mean any of you told me about her? She was a controlling bitch, remember? Or was that all just a lie?”

“I meant every word I said to you,” He tried to convince her. “But I realize now that I was being too judgmental. She’s different now.”

“She’s different? I may not know her that well, but if it walks like a duck and talks like a duck, then it has to mean that Amelie is still a controlling bitch.”

Lawyer Enjolras took over just then. “You’re right. You don’t know her. It is not up to you to be charge of my personal life.”

“I’m not trying to be in charge of your personal life. But I’m not about to stand by and watch you get used like this.”

“No offense, Eponine. But you don’t get to give me relationship advice when you allowed your last real boyfriend to use you.”

He turned on his heels and walked to the elevator in a huff. Eponine stood there, feeling wounded by his words. Just as he entered the elevator, a man in a jumpsuit and carrying a toolbox walked off the elevator. “Someone call for a plumber?”


	14. Simply a Game

A couple days later, Enjolras was sitting on the couch, typing up a few legal documents on his laptop. Courfeyrac slunk his way into the living room, eating an apple.

“What’s going on, man?” He asked his blonde friend.

“Working,” He replied gruffly, not looking up from his computer screen.

“On what?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “What do you want, Courf?”

“Nothing, I’m just talking with one of my best buds.”

“Well, one of your best buds is busy with work. So go annoy the others for a bit.” He went back to typing at a furious pace.

Courfeyrac leaned back on the couch. He took a slow bite from his apple and chewed with his mouth open. Trying to make as much noise as possible. Enjolras set his jaw and took a deep breath in. But he forced himself to focus. _Rise above it, rise above it._ He told himself.

After about three loud bites, he couldn’t take it anymore. “Oh, Jesus Christ, must you continue to eat like a Neanderthal?” Enjolras slammed his laptop shut and threw it to the side.

“I want to know why you’re back with Amelie.” Courfeyrac said bluntly, leaning forward.

The blonde scoffed. “That’s what this is about?”

“Dude, she ruined you. Don’t you remember? You used to be a fun-loving guy and then she came along and shoved a yard stick so far up your ass and you let her. Do you remember how broken you were when she called it off?”

“I was not broken.”

“Right, binge-eating cinnamon buns and drowning yourself in a bath of whiskey doesn’t seem broken at all.” He said sarcastically. “She’s crazy and you know it.”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” Enjolras rose to his feet. But his friend stood up and squared off with him.

“Too bad, we’re going to talk about this,” He said.

“What happened to not talking about our feelings?”

“What happened to bros before hoes, man?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes again. “This is ridiculous.” He went around the couch the opposite way from where Courfeyrac stood blocking his way. He was making a beeline for his room. But Courf guessed his plan, as he ran over the couch and jumped down in front of his friend cutting off his exit. “Don’t run on the couch, you heathen!” Enjolras scolded. “You’ll ruin the upholstery.”

“I can see that this is going to call for drastic measures,” Courfeyrac seemed to say to no one. In a flash, he tackled his friend to the ground like a quarterback and shouted, “Code Red and Black, Code Red and Black!”

As Enjolras shook off being stunned by the tackle, he loudly started to protest and express his confusion. “What the hell is going on? Get off me!”

Grantaire sped out of his room and dashed to the large bookshelf in the living room. “Got it!” He announced, after he moved the bookshelf off the wall and taking a DVD that taped to the back of it off.

“No, no, guys,” Enjolras protested, finally realizing what was going on. Courfeyrac dragged his friend back to the couch, as his friend kicked and screamed like a kid during a tantrum.

Grantaire turned on the TV and put the DVD inside the disc reader. “We’re doing this for you, man.” He said as he then went to help hold the blonde man down on the couch. “You need to hear it from the person who knows best.”

“This is so immature. Stop this now.” Enjolras tried again, but it was already too late. The video was already playing.

A much younger Enjolras appeared on screen, sitting on the couch he was currently imprisoned on. His curly blonde hair was matted and greasy from lack of grooming. A five o’clock shadow spread across his strong jaw, and the bags under his bloodshot blue eyes were almost cartoonishly large. He wore a sweatshirt with stains all over it and sweatpants. The absolute antithesis of the current Enjolras being restrained. “Hello, Enjolras. It’s Enjolras.” The video Enjolras greeted, his words somewhat slurred. He took a swig from a flask before speaking again. “If you’re watching this, it’s because you decided to be a dumbass and get back together with Amelie. Well, take a good look, man, because this,” He gestured to his disheveled appearance. “Is what that woman did to us. She’s a cold-hearted snake that will ruin you, you moron.”

“Please get off of me,” Enjolras tried once again to get out from under his friends’ grasp but failed.

“You need to hear this, bro.” Courf said, holding his friend’s head toward the screen.

Video Enjolras continued. “No good can come from getting back together with her. You may have already convinced yourself that she’s changed. ‘This time is going to be different’ or ‘maybe I can change her’. Well, you’re only saying that because you are a weak spineless fool who has allowed that woman back into your brain like a damn parasite.” His voice broke a little.

At that moment, Courfeyrac came on screen and threw his arm around his friend. He then looked into the camera. “You are so much better than this, Enj. Grantaire and I care about you.”

From off screen, you could Grantaire say, “Just for the record, I approve of the drinking, but I do not approve of the rest of it.”

Courfeyrac shot their roommate a look before continuing. “Anyway, the purpose of this video is to give you some tough love. We hope that this little thing reminds you of what once was and what you’re future may look like if you go down this road again.”

“She hurt me so bad.” Enjolras called out emotionally.

Then, their old roommate, Combeferre, at the time entered the frame. He leaned down and looked at the camera closely. “You guys are using my camera?”

“It was Courfeyrac’s idea.” Grantaire said off screen.

“I told you guys not to touch my stuff!” Combeferre grabbed the camera.

“We’re doing this for Enj. Don’t be a-“ And the video cut off.

Grantaire and Courfeyrac released the now exhausted Enjolras. “So what are you thinking now?” Courf asked.

Enjolras rubbed his arms. “Well, I’m thinking that I severely underestimated your guys’ work out routines.”

Grantaire slugged his friend in the arm. “That’s not what we meant, dude. So are you going to call it off with Amelie or not?”

“No.” Enjolras said, forcing his two friends to moan and groan. “Guys, I don’t need an intervention. I love Amelie, I always have.”

“Well, we tried.” Courfeyrac threw his hands up in surrender and walked away. “Have fun being miserable, dude.”

“The only time I was miserable was when I was being wrestled to my own couch.” Enjolras called after him. “If I pulled any muscles, you can expect to see me in court.”

Grantaire grabbed his friend by the shoulders and turned him to face him. “Dude, seriously, she is bad news. You just told yourself exactly that via video. Why aren’t you listening to us?”

“Because you guys don’t know.” He argued. “You don’t know how she makes me feel. You don’t know how much she helps me figure out things. I feel safe with her. She’s like my-“

“Yeah, your angel, I know.” Grantaire rolled his eyes and dropped his hands to his side. “God, who knew that the Marble Man could sound so pathetic. When are you guys going to learn that you deserve better?”

“When are you going to learn to get over it? Why are you so against her anyway? You have never said one nice thing about her. Why?”

Grantaire stared back at his friend for a moment, examining the marble up close. Then he shook his head. “I guess it doesn’t matter. If you are so determined to head down the road again, then leave us out of it. Because we have tried to talk some sense into you, but apparently, we don’t matter enough. So honestly, man. If you really wanna see this through, then you need to get the fuck out of this apartment.” The curly haired man left his friend alone in the living room, slamming his bedroom door behind him.

>>>

“You kicked him out?!” Eponine exclaimed, making Grantaire cringe. 

“He was being an asshole.” He defended. Eponine had just come home from school, to find Enjolras’ room was packed up and empty. Now, she had sat both of her roommates down on the couch and was scolding them like her students.

“We tried everything, Ep,” Courfeyrac said. “He’s just so blindly stubborn that there is not a force in this universe that is going to get him to listen to reason.”

“So throwing him out was the next best solution?” She placed her hands on her hips.

“Absolutely.” Grantaire nodded. “That’s the rule around here, Eponine. Be an ass? Then eat grass.”

“That is not a rule that we have.” Courfeyrac told her.

“Guys,” She said. “He’s our friend. He’s _your_ friend. R, you’ve known him longer than any of us. When a friend needs help, you don’t throw them out in the street.”

“Then enlighten us, milady,” Grantaire challenged. “What do you propose is the best solution?” Eponine paused and thought. “Exactly. The Marble Man is not just in reference to his chiseled physical features, Ep. The man is not easy swayed. And I was not about to sit there and watch him crumble like feta cheese. Again.”

Courfeyrac rolled his eyes. “What is it with you and cooking, bro?”

“I thought it was a good analogy. Plus, that’s just who I am. So deal with it.”

Suddenly, Eponine was struck with an idea. A wicked idea. “Hold up. I might have a thought.”

Courfeyrac perked up. “What kind of thought?”

“A plan. Maybe.” She stood trying to formulate all the pieces in her brain.

“I’m in.” He said.

“You don’t even know what the plan is yet.” Grantaire chided. “What kind of plan?”

“Well, it’s not necessarily a plan. More like a series of dick moves until we make a point.”

“Yup, I’m in.” Courfeyrac stood up and high-fived Eponine. “Come on, R. You know you want in.”

Their drunk friend shook his head. “He hath made his bed, therefore he shall lie in it.” He then disappeared into his room.

“Forget that egghead,” Courf waved a dismissive hand. “Tell me the plan.”


	15. Let Others Rise

“What about this one? Do you think it would go with the curtains?” Amelie asked Enjolras, holding up what had to be the twentieth pillow. They were in IKEA, looking for new furniture and décor for their shared apartment. Since his roommates had more or less kicked him out, she welcomed him back gladly.

“I don’t want to start over anyway.” She had told him. “If we’re going to do this again, she should be all in.”

But that meant that they had to redecorate her apartment to make it “their space”. This was not Enjolras’ area of expertise, but he was really trying to be helpful. “I think the other one was better.” He shrugged.

Amelie examined the pillow again. “Hmm, no, I think this is the one. I think this is going to go really well with that table runner we just bought.” She stuck it in her cart and kept pushing it along.

Enjolras took a deep breath. He really was trying to be helpful, but he was starting to wonder why he was here if she was just going to decide things for him. Wait, what?

“So what are your opinions on types of lamps?” Amelie asked as they neared the lighting section. “Because I think your little work desk could use a nice lamp.”

Enjolras’ phone went off at that point, blaring Chopin music. He reached down in his pocket and looked at his phone. Courfeyrac was calling him. Rolling his eyes, he hit ignore.

“Is it your friends?” Amelie said instead of asked. She knew.

“Yeah, but I’m not ready to talk to them.”

“Not to sound like one of those girls, but I think you could use some better friends.”

Enjolras nodded. “You may be right about that.” Chopin played yet again. “Jesus, Courf!” He muttered hitting ignore again. This time he put it on vibrate.

As he did, he got a text from him saying the words, “Banana hammock.” That was their code for an emergency. At the time they established the code word, Enjolras had expressed his disapproval, but was outvoted by his roommates. And he wasn’t one to argue with democracy.

“What’s wrong?” Amelie snapped him back to reality.

“I think something’s wrong.” He told her.

“What? Grantaire ran out of beer?”

“Please don’t.”

“I’m sorry, Richard, but I highly doubt that it’s an actual emergency.”

Maybe she was right. Maybe they were just trying to get him to break up with Amelie. But he couldn’t take that chance. “I’m sorry,” He started dialing. “I’ll just see what’s wrong.” He held the phone up to his ear, while Amelie rolled her eyes and waved a dismissive hand. She turned to focus on lamps.

“Courf,” Enjolras greeted once the phone stopped ringing. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Dude, I need a wingman tonight.” Courf said on the other side.

For the first time, Enjolras considered committing an act of violence. “What?”

“Musichetta is working tonight and I need-“ Enjolras didn’t bother to listen, because he hung up.

“Tried to tell you.” Amelie said, pretending to be closely inspecting the selection of lamps.

“Whatever.”

“Enjolras?” A voice from behind both of them caused them to turn. Cosette ran up to him and threw her arms around him. “Oh my god, it’s so good to see you!”

“Cosette, what are you-“ Enjolras stiffened and stared at her wide-eyed.

“You know her?” Amelie’s voice shot through with venom.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Cosette let go of Enjolras and stuck out her hand for Amelie to shake. “I’m Cosette. And you must be the frumpy sister he told me so much about.”

“Cosette, what are you doing here?” Enjolras asked through gritted teeth. First, Courfeyrac and now Cosette. Something was going on.

“Buying furniture, silly” She said as if he had asked a stupid question.

“And how do you know each other again?” Amelie questioned through her fake smile.

Cosette blushed and looked toward the ground. “Well, that crazy night at the bar at first.” She reached up to tickle under his chin, which he immediately batted away. “And then a couple more times after that, huh, Enj?”

“I don’t know what’s she talking about,” He told the fuming girl staring daggers at him.

Throwing her head back and playfully hitting him on the shoulder, Cosette said, “He’s such a kidder. Isn’t he a kidder? I still have that dent in the wall as a reminder of that night’s events.”

“Okay, time to go,” Enjolras shoved her away. Then he dropped his voice so only Cosette could hear him. “I don’t know what you guys are doing, but it stops now.”

“We’re only getting started, honey,” She winked at him and ruffled his hair before walking away.

>>>

An hour later, the following texts were exchanged.

Enjolras _: Call off the dogs_

Eponine: _Not until you come to your senses. How was lamp shopping btw?_

Enjolras: _Stop it, Eponine. You guys need to butt out. Now!_

Eponine: _This is what friends do. When we see our friend in a bad situation, we intervene._

Enjolras: _You’re throwing tantrums like children._

Eponine: _R didn’t speak for the whole house. We will welcome you back with open arms when she finally kicks you out._

Eponine: _Also, R has been really depressed since you left_.

Enjolras: _He’s always depressed._

Eponine: _Yeah but now he barely comes out of his room. You mean a lot to him you know._

Enjolras: _I am not his caretaker._

Eponine: _No, but you are his friend. And you hurt him everyday you are with that skank._

Enjolras: _Don’t call her that._

Eponine: _Have a nice life, E. We just want what is best for you_.


	16. French Revolution

“Come on, R,” Eponine knocked on Grantaire’s door for probably the fifth time that day. And at least the 30th time that week. “The new episode of Love is Blind is on Netflix and I need to talk shit about Jessica with someone.”

“Give it up, Ep.” Courfeyrac called from the bathroom just down the hall. “If he wants to be a reclusive mole, then let him.”

“Can you both just go away and allow me to disassociate in peace?” R pleaded in his room.

“No, this is what having roommates is all about. Having zero privacy at all times.” She was getting increasingly worried about him. It was calling back to her brother always being locked in his room or sneaking out of the house.

“Hey, Eponine, while you’re here,” Courfeyrac came walking towards her shirtless with only a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Grantaire, save me. Courf is walking around in nothing but a towel.” Eponine knocked on his door again.

“Can we please have a civil conversation?” Courfeyrac asked. “Now, I am about to ask you for your opinion, as someone who happens to be female…”

“I don’t like where this is headed.” She deadpanned.

“Too bad. Answer me this and I want you to be honest: As a female, would you say that you are more attracted to a Patrick Stewart hair style or Timothee Chalamet hair style?”

“Why?”

“I need a new hair style and I want to know what the ladies go for.”

“Grantaire! Courf is threatening to shave his head.” 

“So your answer is Patrick Stewart?” Courfeyrac asked.

Grantaire threw open the door. “What is it going to take to get you two buffoons away from my door?”

“Come and watch Love is Blind with me,” Eponine begged, reaching out and grabbing his arm.

“Or you can help me with the new ‘do.” Courf suggested. Eponine and Grantaire groaned loudly. “Look, this is going to happen one way or another.”

“For the love of God, you are not going to shave your head, Courf.” Grantaire said.

“Can’t believe I am saying this, but I agree with Grantaire.” A voice said behind all of them. They knew that voice. They turned and saw Enjolras standing in the entryway with a duffel bag strapped to his shoulder. No one said anything for a brief moment, a rare moment of silence in their chaotic apartment. “Hey, guys.” Enjolras finally said, offering a small wave.

“What are you doing here?” Eponine crossed her arms.

He sighed, his shoulders heaving as he did so. “I was hoping you were still in search for a roommate.”

“What makes you think you’re welcome here?” Grantaire asked.

The Marble Man stared at the floor and set his jaw. “I, uh… called things off with Amelie. She didn’t much care for the antics you threw at her and… suffice to say, she showed her true colors. Look, I know I don’t deserve any sympathy from you three. I was kind of a jerk. But you should know that I broke it off. For good. And…” He cleared his throat. “I’m… sorry.”

Eponine slowly glided towards him, her face unreadable and her arms still crossed. He hesitated to meet her gaze. Once she was close enough, she stood her ground and stared him. Under her glaring stare, he felt like he was shrinking by the second. But she could see the genuine remorse he felt.

Finally, she spoke one word. “Jar.”

Enjolras tried not to smile. “How much?”

“I don’t know.” She turned back to her other roommates. “What do you guys think?”

Courfeyrac shrugged. “I’m going to say at least 50.” Grantaire didn’t say anything. He just shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at the floor.

Enjolras took out his wallet. “I’ve only got three twenties.”

“Deal.” Eponine took them from his hand and brought it to the jar.

Meanwhile, Courfeyrac went up to give his blonde friend a bro hug. “Good to have you back, buddy.”

“Please put on a shirt.” Enjolras begged him.

“First, answer me one question…”

“You are not shaving your head, Courfeyrac.”

“Alright, fine. Chalamet it is.” He winked and went to go disappear into the bathroom again.

“Wait, Courf,” Eponine chased after him. “You’re not going to do it yourself, are you?”

“I’m a big boy, Ep. I think I can handle a pair of shears.”

Once they had vanished down the hall, even though their argument could still be heard, Enjolras and Grantaire remained. Enjolras walked over to him and offered a hand to him. “Are we cool?”

Grantaire turned his blue eyes from the floor to his friend. They had been friends since their first day of college when they realized that they would be sharing a dorm room. That first night, they sat up most of the night talking about their hopes and dreams and plans for the future. It had been so organic and natural. It was had been. Grantaire smirked. Enjolras mirrored it. But then, the curly haired man shot out his fist suddenly and it connected with his friend’s groin. A loud groan escaped from the Marble Man as he bent forward in agony. “Now, we’re good.” Grantaire said, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

>>>>

“The game is French Revolution.” Grantaire spoke in a bravado that would rival any carnival barker. “A drinking game not for the faint of heart.”

“Is this speech necessary?” Eponine asked as Courfeyrac passed out the cans of beer.

“Trust me,” He told her. “It’s better for everyone if we just let him do it.”

“Back in the year of our Lord 2012,” Grantaire continued. He was standing on the dinner table, much to Enjolras’ chagrin. “The game was brought about by our forefathers when they were tasked to study for a European History examination.”

“And by forefathers, you mean?” Eponine asked.

“Us.” Courf answered.

“Got it.”

“During said study session, a case of beer was bestowed upon them by the gods…”

“The liquor store around the corner,” Enjolras added.

“And thus, French Revolution was born.”

“Great, can we play now?” Eponine asked impatiently. “How do you play?”

“It’s best if you learn as we go.” Grantaire said, as he jumped down from the dining table. “It’s kind of like strip poker, charades, and chess all rolled into one big drinking game. Oh, and the floor is lava.”

“Did you say strip poker?”

“Alright, un, deux, trois, who’s there?”

Courfeyrac and Enjolras raised their beers and shouted, “French Revolution!”

“Fire!” Grantaire said, as the three men stabbed the sides of their beer cans and started to slurp out the beer. Eponine quickly tried to follow close behind.

The game, as Eponine came to find out, was a very complicated one with many different rules and scenarios. They would have to throw pillows on the floor to move, guess the famous French revolutionary figures based on word clues or acting things out, and trying to drink as much as beer as you could.

“Can’t I have like a print-out of the directions or something?” Eponine asked at one point.

“We tried to do that once,” Enjolras explained. “But it just turned into actually playing the game.”

“ _Liberté_!” Grantaire cheered.

“ _Fraternité_!” Courfeyrac threw an arm around him.

“ _Égalité_!” All four of the raised their beers and finished them as quickly as they could.

One of the rules was the last person to finish chugging their drink lost an item of clothing. Sometimes Courfeyrac would purposefully drink slowly just for him to show off his “sculpted torso”, as he called it. But as the game progressed, each player had lost quite a bit of clothing. Enjolras was insistent on keeping his torso covered. So towards the end, he was in an undershirt and boxers. Grantaire ended up being completely topless, but still had all of his clothing from below his waist. (He was clearly the better drinker of the group.) Courfeyrac was only in his boxers. Eponine was in a bra and skirt.

Eventually, they ran out of beer and so the game was called.

“I need to puke!” Courfeyrac announced making a mad dash for the bathroom. “Get out of me, you poison.”

“Don’t worry, you guys,” Grantaire sloppily slapped his hands on his other two friends’ shoulders. His speech was more slurred than normal. “I’ll go hold his hair back. Hey, C, make some room in that bowl for me, bro!” He stumbled his way down the hall.

Enjolras and Eponine watched their roommates disappear out of sight with goofy grins on their faces. “That’s a really fun game.” Eponine said, collapsing on the couch. Her speech was almost as slurred as R’s.

“I haven’t played that game since before I took the bar exam.” Enjolras also collapsed on the couch.

“I can’t believe you helped create the game.” She giggled.

He faked being offended and gestured to himself. “You are looking at the mastermind behind the game.”

“No way.”

“Why do you think it’s based on so many historical facts?”

They both fell into a fit of drunken giggles, a few hiccups escaping Eponine. “Who knew the Marble Man had a fun-side!” She exclaimed.

“Hey, screw you. I have fun-sides.”

“Pffft,” The air escaping her was not a steady stream. “I will believe that when I see it.”

Enjolras knotted his eyebrows together in thought. Then, he stood up in front of her. “Ask and you shall receive, my friend,” He slowly took off his undershirt.

Eponine sat with her mouth gaping open. Her hands covered up her cheeks as she shouted, “Oh my god!” Her vision was blurred, but she could see the true sculpted torso that was before her. He wasn’t a beefcake with obnoxiously sized muscles. But he definitely had an athletic physique. She now fully understood his nickname, Marble Man.

For extra measure, once his shirt was completely removed, he flung it around in circles. Eponine giggled some more, taking the rare sight before her. His circles grew larger and larger until he fell back onto the couch just behind him. It was then his turn to giggle.

She turned her body to face him but rested her face on the back of the couch, feeling sleep haunt her. “Why aren’t you always this fun? Why did it take an overly-complicated game about a specific moment in history to get you like this?”

He suddenly grew serious, as he played with the shirt in his hands. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve always been placed under this microscope and felt all this pressure to be a certain type of person.”

“From Amelie?”

Still he pretended to act like his shirt was knotted up and he was trying to undo it. “Not just her. My father, too.” Eponine swallowed hard. She knew that he was being brutally honest right now. “He was an army man, you know. He ran an incredibly tight ship and had extremely high expectations for his kids. He took the term ‘helicopter parent’ to a whole new level.” A moment of silence fell between them. Then he turned to face her. “Why are you always getting me to admit personal things about myself?”

She smiled and shrugged. “Could be that hex I put on you when I first moved in.”

After a good chuckle from both of them, he reached out and rested a hand on her knee. “I’m glad you did move in.” He told her, looking in her brown eyes.

Eponine nodded. “Me too.”

“Hear ye, hear ye!” Grantaire shouted, making Eponine and Enjolras jump. “I have puked my guts out!” His arms were raised in the air like Rocky Balboa.

“Where’s Courf?” Eponine asked.

The man’s arms dropped and concern swept over him. He searched around the living room. “Oh my god, Courf is dead!” He cradled his face with his hands as he sloppily sobbed into them.

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “I’ll go check on him. You got this one?” He asked Eponine gesturing to the panicked friend.

“Yeah, don’t worry, I can handle this one.” She assured him.

“Alas, poor Courfeyrac, I knew him well!” Grantaire said dramatically and emotionally.


	17. Colors of the World

_**BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!**_ The house was awoken by the fire detector going off. Hungover masses of human poured out their rooms, hands covering their ears.

They all found Grantaire frantically shoving the stick end of the broom up to the fire detector. They initially loved the tall ceilings when they all first moved in. Now it was a curse. A very loud and high-pitched curse.

“Oh my god,” Courfeyrac screamed. “This is literally my own personal hell!”

“Grantaire, shut it off now!” Enjolras ordered.

“I’m trying! Can’t you see me trying?” He jumped up, but still missed the detector by a couple of inches.

“Jesus Christ, someone give me a boost.” Eponine took the broom out of his hands. Courfeyrac was too busy cradling his head, so Enjolras lifted Eponine by her waist and placed her on his shoulders. She reached up and smashed the alarm until it blessfully turned off. Everyone breathed out a sigh of relief.

“R, what did you do?” Courf demanded, still feeling the ringing in his head.

“I was making omelets and I might have fallen asleep waiting for the burner to get hot.” He said, taking the broom from Eponine.

Enjolras carefully put Eponine down. She was surprisingly very light weight. Once her feet were safely on the ground, both of them cleared their throat and tried not to look at each other, knowing that their faces were bright red. Courfeyrac and Grantaire were too busy arguing to notice.

“You fell asleep? That is the reason why my head is currently throbbing like an MRI machine?”

“Do not act like you are the only one among us experiencing a hangover.”

“Well, it is certainly not helped by the early morning chorus of high-pitched alarms!”

“Boys,” Eponine slammed a fist down on the counter. All four of them groaned and grabbed their heads at the sound of the thud. “We all feel like death. Yelling at each other is not solving any of it.”

“Well, I’m going back to bed.” Courfeyrac announced. “And hopefully bid myself to die.”

“Good night, Shakespeare,” R grumbled after him, as their roommate stumbled back into his room.

“Well, I’m up now. Can you make some omelets for me, too, R?” Eponine asked.

“Sunny-side up!”

“I’m brewing coffee.” Enjolras said, starting to clean the pot in the sink.

Eponine sat down on one of the stools seated at the island and cradled her head. “As God as my witness, never again will I drink an ounce of beer.”

“Okay, let’s not say anything we’re going to regret.” R said, pouring egg mix on the skillet.

“Well, if we need any further proof that we aren’t as spry as we were in college, we are experiencing it now.” Enjolras stated.

“How much do you guys remember?” Eponine asked.

“I think I blacked out after the Thomas Jefferson round.” Grantaire answered.

Enjolras didn’t answer. He remembered all of it. Including him acting like an idiot and taking his shirt off in front of Eponine. Not to mention talking about his father. “How much do you remember, Ep?” He asked her, almost afraid to ask.

Eponine shrugged. “Some parts are a bit fuzzy.” In truth, she remembered all of it, too. Seeing the Marble Man in all of his glory.

“You want peppers on yours, Eponine?” R asked, looking over his shoulder.

“Honestly, it’s probably not going to stay down anyway, so why not.”

“But you did have fun, didn’t you?” Enjolras asked, pressing the brewing button on the coffee maker.

She nodded, trying not to blush too hard. “Yeah, I did… Mr. Fun-Side.”

He shot her an incredulous look as Grantaire turned around and placed a plate in front of her and poured the omelet down. “Your nourishment as requested,” He told her, unaware of the hidden conversation Eponine and Enjolras were silently having.

They stared at each other, acknowledging that they both remembered the events that transpired the night before. If they were being honest, they were sort of glad that the other person did remember. But the question was where were they going to go from here?

“Enjolras!” Grantaire raised his voice slightly, breaking up the silent conversation. “You want an omelet or not, man?”

The Marble Man cleared his throat and went to find a coffee mug. “I’ll just stick with the coffee.”

Eponine then took a bite of R’s omelet, her mind racing. “Where did you learn how to cook so well, R?” She had to steer the conversation towards something else.

“I worked in a restaurant for most of my high school and college career. It was a real hoity-toity place, with an absolute snobbish clientele. But boy, did those rich snobs know how to eat. That place practically fed our dorm room until I dropped out.”

“Yeah, I want to know that story, R,” She said, swallowing a mouthful of egg. “How did you go from studying to be a lawyer to being a bar owner?”

“Because he lacks conviction and doesn’t believe in anything.” Enjolras muttered as he poured himself some coffee.

R rolled his eyes as he plated his own omelet. “That is your opinion and nothing more. Well, here’s the thing, Ep. I come from a family that severely lacks conviction. Seriously, they call me the responsible one of the family.”

“They don’t know why that’s ironic,” Enjolras deadpanned.

“Anyway, I was the first one in my family to go to college. My parents tried to talk me out of it, tried telling me to find a rich girl to marry or gamble my wages away until I hit the jackpot. But I wanted to change the world, to make something out of myself. So I thought law school was the way to go. But it was about halfway through my schooling when I realized that I hated what it was turning me into. I was becoming one of the snobs I turned my nose up at the restaurant. Not to mention all of the law students were various degrees of our Marble Man here. In other words, they were all preppy dicks and zero fun. And one day, I happened to be at a bar, trying to figure out the direction my life was going, and that bar happened to have been the Musain. Turns out the owner back then was some old geezer with one foot in the grave, looking for a replacement. I realized that you didn’t have to be in a courtroom to make difference. A good bartender can make or break your night. Give you good advice and good booze. So I dropped out of law school, learned the ways of the bartending life, and eventually got to take over as owner of the Musain.” He finished his story by taking a curtsy like he had just finished the performance of a lifetime.

Eponine gave him a round of applause but stopped after a couple of claps due to the throbbing of her head. She then turned to the blonde man. “And let me guess, you were in full support of the life-changing decision?”

He rolled his eyes. “Believe me, I tried to talk him out of it. He was a week away from taking the bar exam when he dropped.”

“I passed the bar.” The curly man said very casually.

Both of his friends gave him shocked looks. “You what?”

“I passed the bar exam.”

“You never told me you even took the exam.” Enjolras gasped.

“I wanted to be able to say that I was a bartender because I wanted to be, not because I couldn’t do anything else. And honestly, I’m glad I’m where I’m at now. I’ve never been happier.”

“That’s… oddly touching,” Eponine commented. “I’m happy for you, R.”

The curly haired man shrugged humbly. “I just feel bad for Blondie, being in stuck that monkey suit all the live long day. At least I have the option to wear jeans.”

“I’m happy with my line of work, thank you very much.” He told him.

“Well, to his each his own. But now I must bid you adieu, my friends,” Grantaire said, digging in the fridge. He pulled out the Cure Juice bottle and shook it. “Because I have a hot date with a bowl and my insides.”

Both of them physically flinched at the sight of the horrid blue water bottle.

“R.I.P. my dude.”

“Don’t bring it anywhere near me.” 

Grantaire went into the bathroom, leaving Enjolras and Eponine alone in the kitchen. Eponine finished her plate and stood up to rinse it in the sink, as well as clean up after Grantaire’s cooking. Enjolras poured himself another cup of coffee. Both were doing their very best not to look at each other.

“I think I’m going to go lay down.” Enjolras announced.

“Thank you,” She said, still not looking up from the sink.

He stopped in his tracks and faced her, suddenly finding some amount of courage. “For what?”

She shut off the faucet and brought her gaze up to meet his. “For showing me your fun-side last night.”

The blonde man dipped his head in embarrassment. “I’m sorry that you had to see that.”

“I’m not. You’re actually a really cool guy underneath all that… seriousness.”

“Thanks…”

“You know… you don’t have to feel like you have to be serious all of the time. You need to learn how to live a little.”

Enjolras slurped his coffee and smiled a little. “I suppose I could take a page from your book. And live in a world where my troubles are going to fixed by a song and dance number.”

Some part of her was a little hurt by his words. “My world isn’t like that, Enj. My world is just as black and white as yours. Maybe even more so. But the way I see it, you can either sit in a black and white world and allow yourself to be just as monochromatic as your surroundings, or you can douse yourself in paint and refuse to let the black and white stain you.”

He hung his head, feeling shameful of his poor choice of words. “I meant that as a compliment, you know. I’ve never been able to see the color. You could even make an argument that I was never allowed to see the color. But you… always seem to see it. And if I’m honest… I’m jealous. A lawyer is meant to see the black and white, but…” His voice trailed off, not sure how to end the sentence. He was getting lost in the metaphor.

“Well…” Eponine’s voice came through. “As Cyndi Lauper once sang,” She then began to sing softly. “I see your true colors shining through,” Enjolras rolled his eyes and tried to suppress a smile. “I see your true colors and that’s why I love you.” From down the hall, you could hear Grantaire joining in the song. “So don’t be afraid to let them show, your true colors, your true colors are beautiful, like a rainbow.”

“I’m taking a nap.” Enjolras announced as the rest of the apartment filled with music. 


	18. No Feelings Douche Dinner

“200, 210, 240,…” Enjolras was counting as he lay money down on the dining room table, as Grantaire and Courfeyrac watched intently.

Eponine entered the room and paused. “Guys, what’s going on?”

“We’re tallying up the total in the Douchebag Jar,” Granttaire explained, as Enjolras continued. “When the Jar gets too full, we count up the money and treat ourselves to a fancy dinner at a very nice restaurant. We call it… Douche Dinner.”

“Sh, you’re going to break my concentration,” Enjolras scolded. “250…”

“Douche Dinner?” Eponine laughed. “Why not spend it on something for the apartment? Like… a bathtub!”

R snickered. “A what?”

“A bathtub. Yeah, the shower is fine, but just think of how relaxing it would be if you came home from a long day at work and got to soak in a bubble bath.”

“You live with three men, Ep,” Courfeyrac said. “Men don’t bubble bath.”

She rolled her eyes. “Are you that insecure in your manhood that you would let a stupid tub define your level of masculinity?”

“Must you turn this into a feminist rant?” Courf asked.

“The grand total is,” Enjolras announced, as the two other men did a drumroll on the table. “$450.”

A resounding cheer came from Grantaire and Courfeyrac. Then all three men passed high-fives around. “Courf, why are you cheering?” Eponine asked. “You were the main contributor of that Jar.”

“Yeah, so you all are welcome.” He said, leaning back smugly. “Guess all that hard work really pays off. I really love that I am the real breadwinner of the house, gives me a certain sense of purpose.”

“And now it’s $451.” Enjolras said, holding out his hand to Courf.

“Enj, what do you think?” Eponine asked. “Do you think we should get a bathtub?”

He sighed. “I’m just not sure if it is going to be used enough for it to make financial sense. I mean, maybe the bathtub would be used sometimes, but we’re all too busy to take the time to do it often enough.”

“Yeah, not to mention that seducing a woman in a bathtub is harder than in a shower.” Courf commented, seemingly to himself.

“$452.” Enjolras shot him another disapproving look.

“I still think…” Eponine tried to argue.

“Look, Ep, enough with the sales pitch.” Grantaire groaned. “Let’s put it to a vote. All those in favor of getting a bathtub?”

Eponine eagerly raised her hand and looked around and found no other hands raised. “Oh, come on. Really?”

“All this in favor of Douche Dinner?” Grantaire and Courfeyrac raised their hands. Enjolras sighed and raised his hand, earning another round of cheering from the boys.

Eponine rolled her eyes. “This is so unfair.”

“Douche dinner, douche dinner, douche dinner,” The boys started chanting, fist pumping the air.

>>>

“We are leaving in 5 minutes!” Enjolras announced to the house, looking at his watch. “If you are not ready by then, you will be left behind.” He did another check of his hair in the mirror by the front door. He was wearing a black suit with a tailored jacket, a white button-up shirt with a couple of the top buttons undone, and a red pocket square sticking out of the jacket. His curly blonde hair was perfectly coiffed and sat neatly in place atop his head.

Coufeyrac came out of his room in a button-down shirt but wearing only his boxer shorts on the bottom. He was carrying two pants. “Enj, I need a second opinion.”

“Dude,” Enjolras stared at the ceiling. “Why are you not wearing pants?”

“Because I need a second opinion. That’s what I said.” He showed him the two pants. “Which one compliments the shirt best?” The button-down shirt he wore was baby blue and the two pant options he had were black and a dark shade of brown.

“I really don’t know, man. It’s just dinner.”

“Yeah, I want to look my best. Now brown or black?”

“Black.” Grantaire said as he entered the room, finishing the last button on his shirt. He wore a plaid flannel shirt with a pair of dark jeans.

“R, you can’t wear jeans to the Rue De L’Armee!” Courfeyrac gasped at the sight.

He held out his hands. “What? There’s no holes in these ones.”

“You animal! Do you think that is the main issue? Please tell me you have non-jeans somewhere in your closet?”

Grantaire put his hands on his hips as he thought. “Do sweatpants count?”

“Oh, my god.” Enjolras pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Okay, you are going to come with me and find something to wear.” Courf grabbed his friend by the collar and dragged him along.

“Did you guys hear me when I said that we leave in 5 minutes? One minute ago?” Enjolras asked.

“Relax, don’t get your knickers in a twist. The restaurant will still be there when we get there.” Courf called over his shoulder.

“But the reservation is at 6 and if we are late, they will give our table away.”

“And if we don’t find R a decent outfit, then we will be kicked out of the restaurant for harboring a homeless man.”

Eponine stumbled out of her room, finishing putting on one earring. “Guys, where did I put my red pumps? I wore them yesterday and I can’t find them.”

Enjolras stared with his mouth open as she scanned the floor frantically. Her brown hair fell past her shoulders, like usual, but with gentle curls ironed into it. Her makeup was natural, mascara, light eyeliner, and shiny layer of lip gloss. She wore a strapless black dress, simplistic in design, but hugged her thin figure just right. Her entire look gave a not-trying-too-hard vibe but looked completely breathtaking. Suddenly, she stopped, noticing that he was staring at her. “What?”

He shook his head and forced himself to blink. “I’m sorry, you just look…”

She tried not to blush. “You’re not too bad yourself,” She gestured to his outfit, finding the couple undone buttons very distracting. But then she reminded herself of the conundrum. “But if I don’t find those red pumps, I’m going to need to start all over.”

Enjolras forced his eyes to the floor, despite the urge to never look away. “What are pumps?”

“Heels, Enj. They’re heels.”

Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t help but steal another glance towards his roommate. What was wrong with him? He wasn’t one of those guys that was easily distracted by women. “They aren’t here. Did you check your room?”

“Oh, brilliant idea.” She said sarcastically, stealing a glance at him. “I should have thought of that before coming out here.” Damn those buttons…

“Well, they’re not here.”

“I guess, I’ll have start over… Ah!” In her distracted state, she tripped over her own foot. Enjolras was quick and reached out and caught her before she hit the ground.

“You okay?” He asked, as she snickered at her clumsiness. They suddenly realized how close they were, practically feeling each other’s heartbeats. Eyes met and an electricity could be felt all around them.

“Yeah,” Her eyes kept going back and forth between his eyes and lips. “Thanks.” He could smell her perfume, a hint of lavender or some sort of flower. Whatever it was, it was very inviting. Something caused him to lean forward just a little.

“Dun-dun-dun-dun!” Courfeyrac’s fanfare made the two of them jump apart, like the other person was infected with a disease. “Introducing the new and improved Grantaire.”

Both men came around the corner, both dressed very smartly. Courfeyrac wore his baby blue shirt with the black pants. Grantaire wore a tan jacket with an emerald green shirt underneath, paired with black slacks. “Wow, guys.” Eponine said, somewhat breathless. She was still reeling from her close encounter. “You clean up nice.”

Courfeyrac threw an arm around Grantaire. “Am I good or am I good?”

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “I feel like I’m going to church. How are you supposed to move in this thing?”

“You look like a million dollars, man. Drink it in.”

Enjolras glanced at his watch. “And we need to leave now if we are going to make it in time.”

Courfeyrac shoved Grantaire out of the way and dashed through the door. “I call shotgun!”

Grantaire regained his footing and chased after him. “No, wait. You need to see the car in order to call it, bro.”

Enjolras and Eponine laughed at their childish friends. Then he offered her his arm, to which she gladly took hold of.

>>>

“They charge how much for mac and cheese?” Courfeyrac’s mouth dropped as he looked over the menu. They had made it in time to the restaurant. Each person had a budget of $110, according to Enjolras’ number crunches and they were looking over the menus.

“They use imported cheese, C,” Grantaire explained.

“From where? Mars?”

“Do you know what I just realized?” Eponine said. “I don’t know you’re first names. I mean, I know Enjolras’ is Richard, but what about you guys?”

“What’s so important about that information?” R asked.

“Well, how about the fact that I have lived with you for now two months? And you guys know a lot about me.”

“Well, I have no secrets,” Courfeyrac said, earning grumbles of agreement from the table. He extended his hand toward Eponine. “Gaston Courfeyrac at your service, milady.”

“Gaston?” She couldn’t help but giggle at the name. “As in the Disney villain?”

“Hey, Gaston was no villain, he was just full of himself. Gaston happens to be a family name. My great great Uncle Gaston fought in World War I as a naval officer.”

“Wasn’t Gaston the one who lead an attack against the Beast?” Enjolras questioned.

“Not you too, Enj.”

“Grantaire, your turn.” Eponine nudged her friend in the leg with her foot.

To which he answered with a shake of his head. “Oh, no, we are not playing that game.”

“What game?”

“We are not playing the game of telling something personal about ourselves to bring us closer together or however you want to paint it. That will inevitably lead to emotional drinking/eating and I am not about to compromise Douche Dinner for feelings.”

Eponine snorted. “Okay, Enjolras.”

“What?” The blonde asked, clearly not having paid attention to the conversation they just had.

“To No Feelings Douche Dinner,” Grantaire raised his glass of wine. His two guy friends raised their glasses in solidarity, but Eponine shook her head.

“No, we’re not going to outvote me again. I’m not saying we need to delve into our biggest regrets in life. I just want to know your name.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “R, you might as well just tell her. Clearly, she’s not going to let this go.”

“Well, that’s not surprising; you siding with her.” Grantaire mumbled into his glass.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Eponine asked.

The curly haired drunk sighed and gently placed his glass down on the crisp white tablecloth. “Do you really think you’re being subtle?”

“What are you talking about?” Courfeyrac asked, just as confused as the other two.

“Dude, it’s so obvious. They’re clearly boning each other.”

A split second of silence fell before they all started talking at once. Enjolras was scolding Grantaire for implying he was being indecent. Eponine was questioning what evidence he had to support this claim. And Courfeyrac was talking aloud trying to wrap his head around it.

“Are we ready to order?” Their waitress interrupted, forcing them all to fall silent. They spent the next few minutes awkwardly ordering their food, staring at each other and sipping wine. There was a clear tension amongst the tablemates and the waitress felt very uncomfortable.

Once she finally left, Eponine folded her arms and rested them on the table. “What makes you think that we’re…?”

Grantaire rubbed his hands over his face. “Oh my god, you guys are the worst. The amount of sexual tension coming off each of you is enough to cause another Chernobyl.”

“I haven’t noticed anything.” Courfeyrac spoke up. But then he knit his eyebrows as a thought struck him. “Am I losing touch?”

“No, Courf,” Enjolras told him through gritted teeth. “Grantaire is just letting the wine go to his brain.”

“For the record, I have had a grand total of three sips of wine. And whether I was sober or not, you guys have been making goo-goo eyes at each other pretty much since Eponine moved in.”

“For the record,” Eponine said, somewhat loudly. “We have not nor will we ever ‘bone’.”

“You are gonna sit here, look me in the eye, and tell me that you haven’t at least thought about it?” Grantaire challenged.

“Dude, you need to shut up right now.” Enjolras threatened with a low and menacing voice.

“Well, am I wrong?”

Silence fell over the table. Eponine and Enjolras turned a deep shade of red. Courfeyrac watched as they tried to find their next words. “Oh, my god, R. You’re right.”

“No, he is not.” Enjolras slammed a fist down on the table, finally finding words. Lawyer Enjolras had arrived. “He is simply trying to turn the focus away from him so he doesn’t have to reveal anything personal, as usual. Grantaire, I can tell you plainly and truthfully that your accusations are baseless and coming from a place of deep-seated jealousy.”

The drunk scoffed. “Jealousy? Jealous of what? The fact that women are always falling over you? Of you pretending to be above the concept of sex? Admit it, Enjolras, you have been lusting after Eponine since she answered our ad on Craigslist.”

“I have not. Do you really think I would stoop so low?” The question hung in the air, frozen and hanging over them like icicles.

“So low?” Eponine repeated, not hiding her hurt. She then stood up and slammed the napkin in her lap down on the table. “Is that what you think of me? That I’m beneath you?”

“No, Eponine, that’s not what I meant.” He tried to tell her.

“Thanks a lot.” She muttered under breath and walked out the front door.

“Are you happy, Grantaire?” Enjolras asked, breaking the silence that was caused by Eponine’s dramatic exit. He then stood up and went to chase after her.

Courfeyrac and Grantaire remained in an uncomfortable state of being. Courfeyrac raised his glass. “To No Feelings Douche Dinner.”


	19. No Bang Clause

“Okay, I’m confused.” Cosette said entering the apartment. “Is Eponine in trouble or not?”

“She’s fine.” Courfeyrac explained, closing the door behind her. “I just really need your help. Because it’s been five days and this house is falling apart.”

Cosette rolled her large blue eyes. “Okay, you need to understand what the word ‘emergency’ means. We are not close enough for this.”

“Look, I don’t know who else to turn to.” He ran his hands through his brown curls and sat down on the couch.

“And you realize that I have boyfriend, right?” She stated, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, you mean Richie Rich? Congratulations, my dear, but this is the real deal.”

Reluctantly, the model sat down on the couch. “Okay, but just know that I have taken self-defense classes and am not afraid to test out my skills on you.” The man stared down at the ground. “Wow, you’re really upset.”

“The house is falling apart.” He repeated.

“Yeah, so you’ve said. How so?”

“Well, Eponine and Enjolras…”

“Are into each other.” She finished with a knowing nod.

He looked up and gave her a shocked look. “You know?”

“I know when my childhood best friend is into someone. Plus, the amount of sexual tension they give off…”

“Jesus Christ, I am losing touch. Am I even good with women?”

Cosette slapped his knee. “One problem at a time. Why is this house falling apart?”

“Well, Grantaire might have confronted them about that fact, to which they vehemently fought against. And in the heat of the moment, Enjolras said something that pissed Eponine off. And he’s mad at Grantaire for bringing it up in the first place and now, none of them talk to each other. Much less come out of their rooms.”

Cosette nodded and bit the inside of her cheek in thought. “So what do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know. Talk to Eponine? Talk to Enjolras? All I know is that I can’t keep living like this. I’m a child of divorce and this is bringing back a lot of issues that I didn’t realize that I had until now. They won’t talk to each other. I can’t even get them to stay in the same room for longer than necessary.”

An evil idea struck her then. “So it sounds like you need to jolt some sense into them.”

“Yes! I’ve tried everything, short of…” He gave her a look. “Oh, you’re good.”

>>>

“Why am I doing this again?” Enjolras asked highly annoyed. He and Courfeyrac were waiting for the elevator outside the apartment.

“I need your help carrying this new armchair I found,” he explained. “According to the reviews online, it’s supposed to provide optimal support for your sciatica.”

“Whatever.” The blonde mumbled. In truth, he was somewhat glad to be away from his room. His mind had been consumed with nothing but Eponine. He had tried to run after her that night. But she had already flagged down a cab. When he came back to the apartment, she had left a note saying that she was going to stay with her sister for a couple of days. They had not heard from her no matter how many phone calls and texts they sent.

Just then, Grantaire came out of the apartment then. He hesitated before closing the door behind him and walking to the elevator. Enjolras shot him a brief glance but then fixed his gaze on the floor indicator. How does it take an elevator to go down four floors anyway?

“Hey, R.” Courfeyrac greeted a little too enthusiastically. “What are you doing?”

“The food I ordered is here.” He answered. One of the worst things about their building was that there was no buzzer system. If they were to order delivery, they had to go down to the front door and greet them. Before now, it had only been a mild inconvenience. But currently, Grantaire was ready to launch a complaint to the landlord.

“What did you order?” Courf asked conversationally.

“Pasta.”

Finally, the elevator doors opened up and the three men went to file in. But Enjolras stopped when he saw that elevator was not empty. Cosette and Eponine were staring back at them, Eponine showing surprise. They had been hanging out on the roof, despite Eponine’s better judgement. Once there, they had talked through the whole situation, until Cosette got a convenient text and pushed Eponine to the elevator. The whole elevator ride down, she prayed that it wouldn’t stop on the fourth floor. When it did, she cursed under her breath.

“Hey, guys!” Cosette waved with a beautiful smile.

“Elevator’s full.” Eponine went to go push the close door button, but her friend caught her hand midair.

“No, there is plenty of room.” The model said. Courfeyrac pushed his two other roommates in and the doors closed behind them.

“Don’t push me, bro.” Grantaire snapped.

Courf dove for the buttons and pressed the emergency stop button. “Welcome to the Thunderdome!” He announced.

“This is not funny, Courf.” Enjolras said, making a beeline for the button. He was cut off by both Cosette and Courfeyrac standing in front of the buttons, crossing their arms like they were posing for a movie poster.

“No,” Courf insisted. “This has gone on long enough. This elevator is not moving until you guys make nice.”

“Cosette, he’s got you roped in on this?” Eponine asked her friend.

“Yeah, Ep. You have been hurting. You all have. It’s time to air it out.”

Grantaire turned to Enjolras and Eponine. “Don’t worry, guys. They can’t keep us here forever. It’s a safety feature. If the elevator is stopped long enough, it automatically alerts the authorities.”

“Yeah, but when your dad is the police commissioner, who has already been alerted of this situation, they don’t come until they get a call from me.” Cosette informed him.

“But what about my pasta?” Grantaire asked, shocked by their thoroughness.

“Musichetta is probably chowing down on it in the lobby right about now.” Courfeyrac shrugged.

“You bastard!” The curly haired man lunged for him, but Eponine and Enjolras held him back. “That was Pasta Pete’s specialty pasta, you goddamned sociopath!”

“R, violence will not solve anything.” Enjolras told him. “Besides, they’re right. This has gone on long enough.”

“I can’t believe this is actually happening right now.” Eponine muttered.

“Okay, honesty time starts right now.” Courfeyrac said. “Who goes first?”

The three of them were silent as they stared at either the floor or the elevator walls. The notable thing about this particular group of people was their combined level of stubbornness. Mules ain’t got nothing on them.

“Really, guys?” Cosette rolled her eyes.

“I’m just waiting for these two to admit their feelings for each other,” Grantaire shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Oh my god,” Eponine held up her hands in frustration. “What is wrong with you?”

“Really, R, you need to butt out.” Enjolras said.

“Oh, look how low the Marble Man stoops.” She uttered sarcastically.

“You never gave me a chance to explain myself.”

“Sorry, I can’t hear you. You’re too high above me.”

“Eponine,” Cosette scolded. “Hear him out.”

“Why should I?”

“What am I even doing here?” Grantaire asked. “All I did was called it like I saw it.”

“It was not your place to say anything.” Enjolras stated.

“Okay,” The man clasped his hands together as he spoke. “If it may please the court, I would like to call attention to the No Bang clause of the lease.”

“No Bang clause?” Cosette and Eponine asked in unison.

Grantaire continued. “Upon allowing the female tenant, Miss Thernadier, to live with us, we three gentlemen sat down and drafted a clause to build into the lease.”

“Why is he talking like that?” Cosette asked Courfeyrac.

“I don’t know, but I think he needs this, so just allow it to happen.”

“At said sit-down, the parties in question all signed and agreed to the following.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

As he scrolled through his camera roll, Eponine tried to step towards the button herself. Cosette swatted her friend’s hand away. “Don’t even think about it.”

“I got it! It says the following, ‘We the undersigned agree to abstain from having sexual thoughts and/or relations with the female tenant as long as she pays rent. If any of us were to break this agreement, he shall be subjected to a round of Nutball and/or financial compensation provided to the parties that have followed this agreement.’”

“What’s Nutball?” Eponine asked.

“We each take turns hitting someone in the balls until he hits the ground.” Grantaire explained.

This time, Cosette and Eponine rolled their eyes. “Oh, brother.”

“Now,” Grantaire droned on, not ready to interrupt his flow. “Might I address the accused and ask him: Have you or have you not had sexual thoughts and/or relations with the female tenant in question?”

“Okay,” Courfeyrac stepped forward, holding his hands out in front of him. “In the spirit of honesty hour, I would like to make it known that I have had sexual thoughts about Eponine.”

“You what?” Eponine hugged her chest.

“It was only one time. But in my defense, it was that week where I was going through a dry spell and she chose to wear that those high-waisted shorts with the little polka dots on them.”

While Eponine shrunk the corner, Cosette slapped him on the back of his head. But Grantaire stuck out his hand. “He is not the one on trial here. But also, dude.” He gave him an “are you serious” look.

“No one is on trial!” Enjolras erupted. “Look, when we signed that agreement, it was mostly to keep Courfeyrac at bay, so he didn’t scare Eponine off.”

“But you still signed it, Enjolras,” Grantaire argued.

“Yeah, that was before…”

“Alright, enough!” Eponine stepped forward so she stood at the center of the elevator. “I need to pee, so let’s hurry this along, shall we? First of all, I do not appreciate that there was a No Bang clause about me. I am not some wide-eyed dummy that can’t fend for herself whenever sexual predators come at me.”

“I’m not…” Courf tried to say but was immediately given a venomous look from Eponine. He shut his mouth and stared at the floor.

“Second, Grantaire, I know that you have had thoughts about me, because you told me during our last game of French Revolution. Remember that huge welt you had when you woke up?”

“I thought you said it was because I tripped.” He said, feeling embarrassed.

“Yeah, you did. Because I stuck my foot out. So don’t you act all high and mighty.” She then turned to Enjolras, taking a breath. “And third. I would be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about you, Enjolras. Every time you were that red jacket, you might as well be walking around naked. But what you said that night at dinner… that was real shitty of you. I know that I come from a rougher background than you. I don’t have rich parents that dictated my life and paid for my college tuition. My parents barely know I exist. But I have worked hard for everything that I have now. And I still may not be rich… hell, I’m a teacher, so I’ll never be rich… But I am not dirt. And for you to say that I am beneath you was a real dick move on your part.”

He set his jaw and nodded toward the floor. She was right. About all of it. But he also had things he had to say. “May I please speak now?” He asked quietly. Once she shrugged, he cleared his throat. “What I said at the restaurant… I can understand that you think that I was referencing you. In retrospect, that’s exactly how it sounded. But here’s something you are all too familiar with, men are the low creatures of this world. Most men only concern themselves with chasing after women and work themselves raw trying to get a woman to notice them. I’ve never understood that. And Grantaire knows that about me. In college, we talked about it at length. So when I said, ‘I would never stoop so low’, that was more of a comment on the male species than you. Eponine… if anything, you are above me. You have so much conviction and zest for life that I have never experienced before. I saw the world for what it was: harsh, judgmental, and chaotic. And you see the world the same way, but… the difference between you and me is that you don’t let that effect you.”

As he spoke, Eponine felt herself letting down the walls she had built around her. The small elevator full of people seemed to disappear until it was just her and Enjolras.

“You are a strong, funny, and… incredibly beautiful woman, Eponine. So in answer to R’s question, yeah, I have had thoughts about you. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. Despite all of my best efforts, and trying to distract myself with literally anything… I guess when you boil it down to its bare essentials, I haven’t followed that agreement I signed since the moment I signed it.”

Silence. The definition reads as the “absence of sound”, which is true for the most part. But the connotation indicates that nothing occurs during a moment of silence. A lot of things were going on during that moment of silence in that elevator. Eponine and Enjolras stared at each other like they were committing each other to memory. Cosette and Courfeyrac looked between the two of them and then at each other, feeling the amount of electricity in the air.

Grantaire sighed and broke the silence with one word: “Richard.” All eyes turned to him. “My first name is Richard, too. That’s why we go by our last names.”

At first, Eponine let out a giggle. Then, Grantaire giggled as well. One by one, each person started to let out a round of laughter, like dominoes. Even the Marble Man let out a rarely heard chuckle.

“So will you two just do us all a favor?” Courfeyrac spoke at last. “And just fucking kiss.”

Enjolras blushed. “Really, dude? You can’t just…”

“Oh, shut up already.” Eponine grabbed him and pulled his face to hers. As they kissed, Courf and R slow clapped. Cosette smiled proudly and then pressed the button, awakening the elevator.

>>>

Enjolras rolled his eyes. "This is so dumb." He and Courfeyrac and Grantaire stood in a circle. They had all agreed to a round of Nutball, each person responsible for hitting the nuts belonging to the guys next to them. They stared at each other now, daring each other to make the first move.

"Wasn't financial compensation an alternative?" Eponine asked. 

"No, Ep." Grantaire said, not taking his eyes off of his male roommates. "It is the principle of the thing. You don't want to live in a house where your roommates are thinking dirty thoughts about you. So the only way to put an end to those thoughts in a man is to beat it out of him." 

"Alright," Eponine rolled her eyes and held her hands up in surrender. "But I am not going to sit here and watch you dummies go through this." She moved to disappear into her room. But then stopped and gave them a mischievous grin. "Well, just to keep everything above the table... I have had thoughts about two gentlemen that live here." Raising an eyebrow, she sauntered away. She felt like one of the action movie stars that was walking away from a fire, as she heard the men behind her argue about which two gentlemen she meant and smashing each other's nuts.


	20. A Scarf

Courfeyrac poked his head out of his bedroom door, scanning the area for prying eyes. “Okay, the coast is clear.” Musichetta tiptoed out of the room, carrying her shoes from the night before. Courf followed close behind her, both being very careful not to make any sound. The two of them had had an on and off “thing” going on for at least two weeks now, but were keeping it deep under wraps, in accordance to Chetta’s wishes. She was deeply embarrassed after the last time she was discovered with Courfeyrac, getting some light teasing from Grantaire. And she actively avoided the rest of them when they would visit the Musain.

Suddenly, a sound made both of them freeze in place. Slowly, they followed the sound to see Grantaire passed out on the couch. He was laid in an awkward position, arms folded in odd ways, and his head propped against the arm of the couch. Surely, he was going to wake up with a bad crick in his neck. The sound of continued snoring gave the two sneaking figures that their cover was still intact. “He’s always been able to fall asleep in weird positions.” Courfeyrac commented in a whisper. Musichetta turned and signaled to him to keep his voice down. Then she continued on her quest to the front door. “So you’ll text me tonight?” He asked when they safely made it to the door.

“No,” She whispered back. “Last night was the end of it. I mean it this time.”

He leaned against the door so she couldn’t open it. “Come on, Chetta. When you are going to get over this whole keeping this a secret thing? Everyone already knows that we’ve done the dirty deed.”

She let out a puff of hair that made her bangs fly out of her eyes for a split second. “I told you this. I don’t want to deal with everyone asking me why I stooped so low. It’s already been embarrassing enough getting shit from R at work. Now my co-workers are getting in on it.”

Grantaire let out another snore but did not awaken. “Well, I’m not ashamed of us.” Courf said.

“I know, dummy, but I am. That’s the problem.”

“Why deny this…” He reached out and stroked her arm gently. “Animal magnetism we have for each other?” Musichetta rolled her eyes as he continued. “I mean, I have had some great times with women before, but with you… it’s like you’re an all-you-can buffet that I never want to quit eating from.”

She flashed him a half-smile. “I can’t believe that worked on me.” Despite her best judgement, she stole a brief kiss. He immediately responded by scooping her up in his arms and holding her tight.

Another snore broke them apart. Grantaire started to yawn and stretch. Courfeyrac opened the door and Musichetta slipped out, but not before Courf snuck a quick slap on her ass as she made her exit. He closed the door just as Grantaire sat up, rubbing his eyes.

“Who’s there?” He asked, blinking awake.

“You fell asleep on the couch again.” Courfeyrac said coolly, his heart still racing from the sneaking around.

“Oh,” The sleepy man looked down and realized that his friend was right. “Damn sleepwalking again.”

“You only sleepwalk when you’re worried about something.” Courf walked and rested his hands on the back of the couch. “What’s up?”

After yawning yet again, he answered. “It’s tax season, and I just need to get all the paperwork in order. The IRS loves to give out ten forms for every dollar spent at a business.” He then noticed that his friend was wearing a particular shirt. “Why are you wearing your tie-dye shirt?”

Courfeyrac removed his hands from the couch and tried to shrug it off. “It was clean?”

“No, no, no. You only wear your tie-dye shirt when you are hiding something. What are you hiding?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit. Did you break something again? Tell me what you broke.” Grantaire got up and followed his friend, who was now retreating back to his room.

“I didn’t break anything. Get off my dick, R.” Courfeyrac closed the door behind him, just before Grantaire got to it. The man tried to open it but discovered that it was locked. He grunted and punched the door.

“So help me, Courf, if I find anything broken, I will have your head!”

The last time Courfeyrac wore his tie-dye shirt, Grantaire discovered that he had broken his iPod. The time before that it was because he had slept with a girl that Grantaire had expressed interest in. In general, the tie-dye shirt was a multi-colored omen. R was determined to find it. He rummaged around in the kitchen, making sure that his precious kitchen gadgets were in working order. Everything checked out. He then moved to the living room and looked around there.

“R, what the hell is your deal?” Grantaire looked over his shoulder and saw Eponine coming from the hallway, wrapping a bath robe around her. “You’re going to wake up the whole neighborhood.”

“Do you know what Courfeyrac is hiding?” He asked.

“What?”

“Courfeyrac is hiding something. The last thing he broke was very sentimental and very expensive to fix. And I had to discover it at my uncle’s funeral when I was tasked with being the DJ. I am not going to wait to find out what is. And since he won’t tell me what it is, I’m going to find out for myself.”

“Okay, calm down, Sherlock.” Eponine motioned her hands in an effort to calm him. “It’s barely 9 a.m. Why not drink some coffee and go ask him?”

Then, he noticed something just behind her. She stood with her back to the door but wedged in the door was a forest green cloth. Grantaire rushed towards and discovered that it was a scarf. “Is this your scarf, Ep?”

Eponine yawned and rolled her eyes. “No, R. It’s not my scarf. Do you see any cute characters on it?” She went to go to the kitchen, figuring that she was going to need some coffee to get through this morning.

Grantaire caught a whiff of a familiar smell as he pulled it from the door. He brought it up to his nose. He knew that scent. His mind raced with possibilities, trying to place it. “Hey, Ep?” He ran around the corner and showed her the scarf. “Smell this.”

Eponine froze in place, the coffee pot in her hand. “What?”

“Smell this.” He repeated, coming closer to her to present the piece of cloth.

She pushed him away. “Grantaire, can you wait until after I have digested coffee before you jump on board the crazy train?” Then, she poured a very generous cup of coffee.

“I know this scent, Eponine. It’s definitely perfume, but it’s not yours.” He started to pace as he spoke.

“How do you know it’s not mine?”

“You have exclusively floral-scented perfume. This has a tropical aroma.” Enjolras turned the corner at that moment, mid-yawn. “Enj, thank god.” The curly-haired man shoved the scarf in his friend’s face before he could react. “What does this scent remind you of?”

Enjolras jumped back and gave his friend an incredulous look. “What the hell, Grantaire?”

“Answer the question.”

The blonde man looked to their female roommate, who just slurped her coffee and shrugged. “I found him like this.” She explained.

“Courfeyrac was wearing the tie-dye shirt this morning.” Grantaire added. “And you know what that means?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes and pushed past his friend. He was going to need coffee to get through this.

“Okay, I’ll bite.” Eponine said, moving out of Enjolras’ way and leaning on the kitchen island. “What is the meaning behind the tie-dye shirt?”

“Just the insane theory of a crazy person.” Enjolras muttered.

“It’s not insane, it’s science.” Grantaire argued.

“You don’t believe in science.”

“Well, the tie-dye shirt is the closest thing to science I believe in.” He then turned to Eponine. “He has worn the tie-dye shirt the last three times he has hidden something from me.”

“Purely coincidental.” Enjolras inserted.

Courfeyrac exited his room at the time. It is worth noting that he now wore a blue t-shirt with jeans. He painted a look of innocence on his face.

“Look, what I found, you snake.” Grantaire waved the scarf in his direction.

Internally, Courf shoved a wave of panic down his throat. Externally, he shrugged and pushed his eyebrows together. “What is that?”

“Good morning, Courfeyrac. Would you like some coffee?” Eponine asked, knowing that her question was going to be ignored.

“Whose scarf is this?” R asked.

“We can never have a normal morning, can we?” Enjolras commented.

“I dunno.” Courfeyrac tried to make his way to the fridge, ducking eye contact from his paranoid friend.

“I have smelled this scent before, but I can’t place it. What are you hiding?” He asked.

“Alright,” Eponine set her mug down on the island and walked to Grantaire, placing her hands on his shoulders. “Grantaire, why is it so important to you to find the origin of this scarf? Chances are it’s from one of Courf’s many sexual conquests.”

“Then, he is hiding who he is sleeping with.” Grantaire insisted.

A scoff came from Courfeyrac. “Why would I ever want to do a thing like that?”

“Why don’t you ask Shelby?”

Enjolras then intervened. “Whoa, okay. I can see what’s going on here.”

“He must be sleeping with someone we know.” R had a somewhat crazy look in his eye.

“Okay, okay.” Eponine placed a hand on the scarf in his hand. “I believe you.”

“You do?” All three boys asked at once.

“Yeah, I mean you clearly have enough evidence to back up this claim.” She continued. “I do know this scent, R. But I also know that you are emitting a scent of your own.” The man sniffed his armpit to check. “So, I tell you what. Why don’t you go take a shower and leave the scarf with me? I’ll see if I can place the smell. Or I can interrogate Courfeyrac. Either way, I promise that I will report back my findings after your shower.”

Grantaire regarded his friend carefully. The other roommates watched with bated breath, hoping that the craziness was over. Finally, the man nodded slowly. “Okay. But I expect a full report when I get out.”

“I promise.” She gently shoved him towards the bathroom down the hall. Once he closed the door behind him, Eponine let out a sigh of relief. “Glad that’s over.”

“Do you really believe him?” Courfeyrac asked, somewhat nervously.

Eponine made a face and shook her head. “No, are you kidding? I just needed to get him to splash some water on his face and clear his head.”

Now it was Courfeyrac’s turn to sigh out relief. Enjolras smiled and walked over to Eponine. “That was impressive. Well done.” He placed a kiss atop her head.

She shrugged and smiled up at him. “Being a teacher has its benefits sometimes.”

“Oh, my god, Mom and Dad.” Courf groaned with a smile. “You’re embarrassing me.” Then, he felt his pocket to find his phone. “Oh, I left my phone on the charger. Hey, can you guys pop some toast in for me?” With a flash, he disappeared into his room once again.

“I’m on it.” Enjolras told her, placing one more kiss on top of her head. He then went to pantry and placed a couple slices of bread in the toaster.

Eponine smiled brightly. “Look at you, being so domestic.”

He pressed the bread down and turned back towards her. “You seem surprised.”

“Not surprised. Just pleased.” She stood and threw her arms around his neck, while he wrapped his arms around her waist. “I could get used to this.”

He lowered his head to meet hers, as she stood on her tip toes to meet his. She loved how tall he was, and he loved that he had to bend down towards her. Their lips danced against each other’s in a leisurely way. Enjolras may have been known as the Marble Man, but as Eponine was discovering, he was actually very gentle with her.

“Hey, you guys should look at this…” Courfeyrac came out of his room at that point. They separated to look towards him but saw that he was frozen in the doorway looking at something behind them. The couple turned and saw Musichetta standing in their kitchen, holding the green scarf. It was clear from her body language that she had previously been trying to sneak her way out the door.

“Chetta?” Eponine looked from her to the frozen man in the door.

The red-haired woman gave a nervous smile. “Hey, guys. Good to see you again.”

“Is that your scarf?” Enjolras asked.

Everyone was looking at each other, each person coming to their own conclusions.

“Eponine, is the sink running? Because I cannot get hot water.” Grantaire walked in, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. He paused when he saw Musichetta. A little look around and suddenly everything was clear. He jabbed a finger high in the air. “I fucking knew it!”


	21. Master of the House

“You do not get to hog our common living space just because you two are bumping uglies.” Grantaire scolded as he sat down on the couch with a bowl of popcorn. Enjolras and Eponine rolled their eyes. They had hoped to have a private movie time, as a mini-date night. But of course, Grantaire had invited himself to join.

“Bumping uglies? You are so childish.” Enjolras said.

“You sure know how to pick ‘em, Ep.” Grantaire grumbled, taking a mouthful of popcorn. “So what movie did we decide on?”

Eponine smiled and showed him the DVDs sitting on the coffee table. “We have The Hangover, The Pelican Brief, or Rocky.”

“Don’t tell me, Enjolras voted for The Hangover.”

“I will not watch that with R,” Enjolras insisted. “I have learned to never watch a drinking movie with him. He sits there and critiques their choices of drink.”

“Okay, if I watch one more movie where ladies actively choose to drink rosé, I will scream.”

“What’s wrong with rosé?” Eponine asked, almost afraid to ask.

“They might as well be drinking bath water.”

“So, no Hangover,” Enjolras pushed the DVD off to the side. “How about The Pelican Brief?”

Grantaire shook his head vehemently. “I will echo your earlier argument with the Hangover and I and apply it to you and legal films.”

“I can’t be as bad as you.”

“When I say that you have ruined the movie, To Kill A Mockingbird, for me, I mean that with every fiber of my being.”

“Rocky it is.” Eponine got up to go put the DVD in, as Enjolras scooped up popcorn from the large bowl.

Chopin played just then. Enjolras looked at his phone and froze, knitting his eyebrows together.

“What’s up?” Grantaire asked.

“Nothing.” He replied, hitting ignore and putting his phone down. Chopin played again. He hit ignore again.

“Enj, what the hell is up?” Grantaire asked with more emphasis. “You never ignore calls unless it’s Courfeyrac, me or…” Just then, he gave his friend a knowing look.

Eponine at this point had abandoned the idea of the movie and put her hands on her hips in concern. “What am I missing?”

Chopin played again. “What do they want?” R asked, ignoring Eponine’s question.

“I don’t know, R. That’s why I hit ignore.” Enjolras’ tone was annoyed and stressed.

“Who is ‘they’?” Eponine asked.

“It can’t be anything good.” Grantaire said, continuing to have a conversation Eponine was clearly not invited to.

“No shit.”

“Guys!” Both of the men looked up at Eponine, as if they just remembered that she was still there. “Someone tell me what the hell is going on.”

Enjolras set his jaw. He was not looking forward to having this conversation with her. Things between them had been going so well lately. Now, _they_ were going to ruin everything. Just like they always do. “It’s my brother.” He explained finally, staring at the floor.

“I didn’t know you had a brother.” She remarked.

Grantaire let out a chuckle. “That’s because he is the worst human being on the planet.”

The sound of Chopin echoed in the apartment again. Enjolras let out a strangled cry and angrily answered the phone. “What do you want?!” Both Eponine and Grantaire watched him and waited patiently to hear clues or see a facial expression that would give them a clue. But of course, this was the Marble Man. His face was unreadable. Anger seemed to be slowly replacing itself with a different emotion. But they could not place it. “Are you sure?” He asked. Still, nothing. Even his voice was even and solid. Damn him and his steely personality. “Alright. I will be there.” And with that, he hung up, staring at an invisible spot on the wall.

An electric silence passed over them, two of them losing patience with every passing second.

“My mother died.” Enjolras finally said. Grantaire and Eponine looked to each other and then back to him. Neither one of them were known for being quiet, but at this moment, they were. What were they supposed to say?

“Her name is Musichetta, she was a bartender!” Courfeyrac entered through the front door, singing and dancing his way in. “Guys, I don’t care what you say but that woman is…” He then became aware of the tension in the room, looking at the facial expressions at all of his roommates. “What happened?”

>>>

“Oh, my word,” The older woman who answered the door clutched her chest and gave a wet smile. “Junior! It is so wonderful to see you again.” The little gray-haired woman hugged Enjolras tightly, trying to muffle soft sobs.

“Hello, again, Mrs. Peters.” The blonde man hugged her back, trying to not embrace her too tightly so as not to break her. “It is wonderful to see you, too.”

Eponine, Courfeyrac, and Grantaire watched in silent surprise. To see such a public and gentle display of affection was a rare sight indeed. They had all agreed to support Enjolras and accompany him to his childhood home to pay their respects. Of course, “childhood home” often implies a quaint little cottage. Enjolras’ home was a large mansion. It was a home that Jay Gatsby would have lusted after. Big windows with beautiful curtains framing them like a priceless painting. Along the front of the house, beautifully pruned shrubs with perfectly placed flowers, which complemented the white paint of the exterior. The front door was framed by white pillars that looked like they may have been imported from the Pantheon.

Enjolras released his grasp on the old woman and turned to his friends. “Mrs, Peters, you remember my friends, Grantaire and Courfeyrac?”

“Oh, yes,” She shuffled her feet towards them and held out her hands for them to take hold of. “You haven’t changed one bit.” One of her hands reached up and pinched Grantaire’s cheek.

“We are very sorry for your loss, Mrs. Peters.” The curly-haired man told her.

Clearly touched, she patted the two men on the chest. “Thank you.” Then she noticed Eponine. “And who are you, dear?”

“I’m Eponine,” She extended her hand for the woman to take. “I’m… their other roommate.” Probably not an appropriate time to inform his family about her and Enjolras’ relationship.

Mrs. Peters turned to glance at Enjolras again. “Since when did you have a girl living with you?” She turned again to Eponine. “And one so pretty.”

As Eponine blushed, Enjolras stepped forward. “This is my au pair, Mrs. Peters.” He told Eponine. “And the best woman I know.”

The old woman batted a band at the man’s chest. “Oh, I almost forgot how much of a sweetie you are, Junior.” She then started to wave her hands towards the door. “Well, why don’t we take this inside, huh? Before the sun dries us out.” Enjolras offered his arm to her and the two of them walked in.

“What’s an au pair?” Eponine asked Grantaire as the three of them entered the large and fancy house.

“It’s what rich people call a nanny.” He explained.

She nodded and took in the surroundings of the interior. Somehow, it was more beautiful than the exterior. A dark and antique-looking rug ran along the foyer like a red carpet. Marble floors and white walls gave it a museum feel. Old oil paintings and a crystal chandelier did not help the museum quality of the house. There were stairs that wrapped around the circular room. Eponine had only seen this sort of thing in movies and HGTV. “Holy shit,” She muttered to herself. “Is Enjolras a Rockefeller?”

“Don’t mention that name to these people,” Grantaire warned. “They will go nuts.”

“One day,” Courfeyrac commented aloud. “I will have a crystal chandelier in my house. Something about chandeliers just says, ‘class’.” He looked around as if he were going to buy it. Even his posture was upright and proper.

“Just as a heads up, Ep.” Grantaire told her. “Enj’s family… is a bit intense.”

“More intense than the Marble Man himself?”

“Let’s just say the apple doesn’t fall too far from the boujie tree.”

They then passed under the staircase and into the main room… perhaps one could call it a living room. Antique, French style couches and chairs decorated the room. Large bouquets of flowers lined the perimeter. But there was no television to be seen. If you weren’t paying attention, you might think you were in the palace of Versailles.

Sitting on of the beautiful loungers was a woman. Her blonde hair was perfectly tied in a bun, not a hair out of place. Her make-up would make Barbie jealous by its level of perfection. She wore a nice, blue cocktail dress that seemed to be tailored for her. Upon seeing Enjolras, she stood up, being sure to smooth out the skirt of her dress and seemingly glided to him.

“Oh, thank you.” She said out-stretching her arms to him and holding back some beautiful tears. “Thank you so much for coming, Rich.” Her flawlessly petite, pale arms wrapped around the blonde man.

“I couldn’t stay away.” Enjolras told her. After a brief moment of them holding each other, he turned to his friends. “Chantelle, these are my roommates. Courfeyrac, Grantaire, and Eponine. Guys, this is my sister-in-law, Chantelle.”

They exchanged handshakes and condolences. Eponine couldn’t help but notice how unnaturally soft her hands felt. Especially in comparison to her cracked and rough hands.

“You are all so sweet for coming.” Chantelle said, her voice sounded like a honey covered dove. She turned to the au pair. “Mrs. Peters, can you go let my husband know that his brother is here?” The woman nodded and shuffled out of the room. “Please, everyone sit. Make yourselves comfortable.”

Eponine did not feel like she should. The furniture alone made her feel dirt-poor. But after the rest of the group sat, she did not want to be the only standing. So she sat. As far on the edge as she could. Why did she feel the need to have perfect posture in this house?

“How’s the organization?” Enjolras asked corporate Barbie.

“Oh, it’s wonderful. We just got a very big donation last week. And next month, we are going to be featured in Oprah’s magazine.” Even her smile was flawless.

“Chantelle is the head of the non-profit organization, ECA,” Enjolras explained to his friends.

“ECA?” Eponine gasped. “As in _the_ ECA?”

“What is that?” Courfeyrac asked as a blush washed over Chantelle’s perfect porcelain skin.

“It stands for Enriching Curriculum in America.” Chantelle explained. “We try and develop curriculum to help stimulate higher-level thinking in schools across the country. Mostly it’s just research and collaborating with educators across the country. But we are currently in the works of developing our very own curriculum. Are you a teacher then?” She asked Eponine.

“Yeah, I teach elementary art and music.”

“Good for you.” Chantelle offered a genuine sweet smile. “I always thought teachers are the unsung heroes of our society. It takes a brave soul to teach the youth of our nation. I know that I was never brave enough for it.” Eponine couldn’t help but think of all the torture she would have put this woman through if they were high school students.

“And what about your law practice?” Chantelle asked Enjolras. “I assume it’s going well, knowing you.”

“Uh-oh!” A male voice boomed in the room. All heads turned to see a blonde-haired man in a suit entered the room. He had to have been Enjolras’ brother, with the same ocean blue eyes and chiseled jaw line. Though he was taller and slimmer than Enjolras. “There he is. The runt of the bunch.” The man strode to his brother and punched him in the arm. “How’s my little brother?”

Enjolras grunted at the punch, his mouth forming a thin line. “Hello, John.”

John then turned and acknowledged the others on the couches. “Hey, Grantaire.” He ruffled the curls on top of the man’s head, as Grantaire scowled at him. “Still a drunk? Ha, just kidding. And Courfeyrac! My dude!”

Courfeyrac stood and gave John a bro hug. “Hey, man. How’s tricks?”

“Oh, it is popping, bro.” John said. “Hey, you should come to my new club I’m opening up this weekend. Literally everyone is going to be there. Snoop even might pop by, according to his publicist.”

“Sure, man. Sign me up!” Courfeyrac smiled wide.

John’s gaze fell to a rather shocked Eponine. “Well, hello.” He held out his hand. She went to shake it, but he turned it and placed a kiss on her hand. “And who are you?”

“Eponine.” She stated, looking to Chantelle. The porcelain woman did not seem to bat an eye.

“Don’t tell me that your lil bro’s new side piece.” John chuckled, releasing her hand.

Enjolras stood at that point crossing his arms. “John, are you really going to do this? Today of all days?”

“What?” The man held up his hands innocently. “Can’t I say hi to your new boo?”

“John, stop.” Chantelle stepped in, gently pulling Enjolras back. Good thing too, otherwise he might have decked his brother. “Eponine is his roommate. And a teacher.”

“What does she teach?” He asked, smiling. “Sex ed? I’m joking. That was a joke.” Grantaire was right about him. He was the worst. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Eponine. I’m John Enjolras, you might recognize me from various billboards and online ads. I’ve been the head of the Los Angeles branch of Google for years, but just recently I have decided to run for state senator.”

“Oh, yeah,” Eponine nodded, no longer able to hold back anymore. “Aren’t you the guy whose billboard got graffiti’d last week? It was… what was it again?”

“A penis!” Grantaire chimed in, happy to play along. “It was on the news the other night. I knew it was your billboard.”

Enjolras shot the two of them disapproving looks as John laughed obnoxiously. “Ha, your friends are real fun, Junior.”

“Junior?” Eponine asked, realizing that this was now the second person to call him that.

“Oh, lil bro didn’t tell you?” John wrapped his arm around his brother, whose mouth was still a thin line. “Meet Richard Enjolras… Junior. Poor thing was named after ol’ pops. And has been a huge disappointment every day of his pathetic little life.” 

Unable to contain himself anymore, Enjolras elbowed his brother in the gut. The man let out a groan before wrapping an arm around his brother and pulling it down towards the ground. Enjolras struggled to remain on his feet as John wrenched his grip around his neck with an evil grin.

“Attention!” Another voice boomed in the room. Instantly, the two boys released their grip on each other and stood straight like soldiers. Even the other three roommates and Chantelle found themselves straightening up their backs. They all turned and saw an older gentleman standing in the doorway. His salt and pepper hair was perfectly greased down and he wore a navy blue uniform, covered in badges and pendants. Based on his perfectly erect posture and commanding jawline and presence, this had to have been Richard Enjolras. Senior.


	22. Never Shall Yield

The dinner table was very silent. Most everyone was too scared to breathe, let alone eat or drink. Well, Grantaire had no issue drinking and kept motioning for one of the servers to keep filling up his glass. Enjolras Sr. sat at the head of the table, a very large and beautifully decorated table. Enjolras Jr., Eponine, and Grantaire sat on the menacing man’s right. John, Chantelle, and Courfeyrac sat on the left.

“How is the campaign, John?” Enjolras Sr asked. Unlike his sons, the man had dark brown eyes but, in the low lighting of the fancy dining room, they almost looked black.

“It is going well, sir.” John reported, sounded more like he was addressing the President than his own father. “We are will be holding a fundraising event next week and I am expecting a lot of support from that.”

“Thank you again for putting the good word to your friends in the military,” Chantelle said to the man at the head of the table, reaching out and placing a hand on top of her husband’s hand. “Their support has meant a great deal for us.”

Senior flashed a dismissive hand. “They are good men that support good causes. All I did was point them in the right direction.” He then pointed an intense finger at John. “If you keep your head down and focus on your message, you will win that election.”

“Yes, sir.” John smiled briefly, but then shook his head. “I mean, thank you, sir.”

“And Junior…” Senior turned his massive gaze towards his youngest. “Are you going to support your brother in this election?”

Enjolras set his jaw, cementing his gaze at his plate. “It depends on what you mean by support, sir.”

“Well, I know that money tends to be tight with you, bro,” John piped up. “But we could always use help passing out flyers.” This earned a death glare from his brother sitting across from him.

“And what is your opinion on institutional reform?” Enjolras challenged. “How are you going to fight the corruption that exists in our democracy? Maybe I shall offer my support when I understand your platform.”

“Boys,” Senior raised his voice one notch, but it was intimidating as hell. “You know the rules. No politics at the dinner table.”

“That is an excellent rule, sir.” Courfeyrac tried to chime in. But Senior glared towards him and he immediately hung his head in shame. Courf had always weirdly craved approval from Enjolras’ father, but of course, that was a losing battle.

“So. Eponine, was it?” Eponine felt the intensity fall onto hear and she struggled to swallow. “What do you do for a living?”

“I’m an elementary teacher. Music and art.”

The military man huffed through his nose, his face solid stone and unreadable. “And you enjoy your line of work?”

“Yes, yes I do.” She felt determined not to call him ‘sir’. After all, she didn’t know him nor did she have any respect for him. If this was the man responsible for making Enjolras into the Marble Man that he is, she had no interest in getting to know him. But despite it all, she knew that his father meant a great deal to Enjolras, so she tried to be civil.

"Always seemed funny to me to introduce art and music at the elementary level," Enjolras Senior spoke aloud. "Why not introduce it when they are much older and have the basic understanding of how to do it correctly?" 

"With all due respect," Eponine said, ignoring the warning glares from the rest of the table. "Music and art isn't meant to be perfected. Instead it is meant to be explored. And at the elementary age, kids are already exploring the world around them, so why not mix some of the arts into it?"

"Tell me this, then. Do you not grade your students? Are you not expecting them to perform to a certain criteria of success?" 

"Sir, if I may," Chantelle spoke up. She seemed to have some pretty good timing of stopping people from launching themselves at others. "I think what Eponine is trying to say is that, for her students it is less of a scientific way of learning, and more exploratory. We at the ECA have actually found that allowing students to be creative at younger ages stimulates higher-level thinking that helps them as their brains develop."

The old man grunted and shoved a fork full of food in his mouth. "In my day, athletics were the thing to promote higher-level thinking. That and focusing on classic literature. I don't think I even heard the word 'art' in school until I went on to high school." 

"That explains a lot." Eponine mumbled into her wine glass. 

"Ha!" Grantaire finally interjected. "That's our little Eponine. A terrific sense of humor, she has." He flashed her a "let it go" look and slurped more from his wine glass. 

"You sure know how to pick a roomie, Junior." John told his brother. 

The table fell silent again, clinking of silverware and plates, glances stolen from every person at the table. The tension in the air was palpable. 

"How's business then, Junior?" His father finally asked. 

"Fine, sir," came a quiet but firm answer. 

"What sort of law was it again? Criminal?"

"Corporate. I mainly deal with exposing and trying corruption, nepotism, or mistreatment of workers in major corporate settings." Eponine felt sympathy for him as he spoke. His own father didn't even know what kind of law he practiced.

His father shook his head. "I still don't see why you felt the need to pursue such a ridiculous career path. What ever happened to joining my friend Voorhees' firm?" 

"Mr. Voorhees was a crooked and corrupt man. I could never work for such a man." Enjolras stated. This whole time, he had never once looked at his father. 

"Your brother doesn't seem to have an issue with him. Why, he's been a major financial supporter for your brother's campaign." 

John beamed and smiled widely. He turned to Courfeyrac and said, "He's the one who's helping finance the night club." 

"That's cool, dude." Courfeyrac said, earning a death glare from his blonde roommate. He dipped his head and went back to eating.

"Well, I for one refuse to take a penny from someone who exploits his workers and only hires conventionally attractive women to work for him." Enjolras made direct eye contact with his brother as he spoke. 

John did not back down under his little brother's gaze. "I'll have you know that he just extended his maternal leave to six weeks and got it covered under the company's health insurance plan."

"Yeah, because he impregnates half the women who work for him." Enjolras stated.

"That is enough." Enjolras Senior raised his voice again. "Now, I am tired of having you boys at each other's throats all the time. If this were the army and you were my cadets, I'd have you give me ten miles." Of course, when the two boys were younger, they often were subjected to military punishments. It included running for long distances, a ridiculously high number of push-ups and sit-ups, and mess duty, which involved cleaning every surface of a chosen room with soap and a tooth brush. "Besides, you are making our guests uncomfortable." The old man gestured to the three at the end of the table, refusing to make eye contact with him. "Tell me, Eponine. How long have you lived with my son?" 

"I think it's about three months now?" She said, cocking her head to the side in thought. 

"Four and a half." Courfeyrac chimed in. When the other roommates looked at him in surprise, he shrugged. "What? I remember stuff." 

"Okay, then," Eponine nodded slowly. "Four and a half months. But it's been a great few months." She flashed a smile to her roommates, including a lingering sweet smile to the blonde on her right. 

“And what are your intentions living with my son?” This question earned a little noise disruption, the first real noise since they had sat down to eat. Enjolras tried to argue with his father, while Eponine coughed on her wine slightly. Chantelle reached across the table, asking if Eponine was okay, while John chuckled to himself. Grantaire motioned to one of the servers to top him off yet again.

“It is a legitimate question.” Enjolras’ father insisted. “What is a woman doing living with three other men?”

“Sir, it is the 21st century.” Enjolras argued. “And you have no right to pass judgement.”

“So are you trying to tell me that I can’t look out for my son? Eponine, if I have offended you, I do apologize, but I think I have the right to know what is going on in my son’s life since he does not visit anymore.”

Enjolras threw his hands up. “And whose fault do you think that is?”

The non-Enjolras’ of the table busied themselves, keeping their heads pointed at the table. That is except Eponine who was unable to look away. “Don’t try and make this about him.” John interjected.

“Would you please butt out?”

“Junior, do not take that tone with your family. No one here is attacking you.”

“No, but you are doing exactly what you have always done. Look down on me and view me as the disappointment of the family.” Eponine wanted to reach out and hold Enjolras’ hand, to give him some silent encouragement. There was fire behind his crystal blue eyes.

“You are not a disappointment.” Senior’s hand gestures were concise, not unlike a robot. The tone in his voice sounded annoyed, like he was repeating an earlier argument. “I just think you could be doing so much more with your life.”

“Mom was perfectly happy with my life.” Enjolras stated. The chaos and noise screeched to a halt. Yet again, no one dared to breathe. “Just for the record, dear father,” He gestured to the girl next to him. “Eponine and I are dating. That was not the reason for her living with us, but it happened. I came here today to pay my respects to Mom and to introduce you to her, but clearly I can see that either one of those missions were in vain.” He stood up and gestured to his friends. “Let’s go, guys.”

Eponine nodded and rose to follow close behind him. “But we haven’t had desert yet.” Courf whined.

“Courfeyrac.” Enjolras snapped.

Courf moaned. “Dinner was lovely,” He told the three still sitting at the table. “It was very good to see you again.”

“Is there any way I could get this to go?” Grantaire asked pointing to his glass. On his way past his chair, Enjolras grabbed R by the collar of his shirt and dragged him behind him. The curly-haired drunk slurped the rest of the glass dry and placed it on the table as he struggled to maintain his footing.

Mrs. Peters stood off to the side, letting them pass but with a tear-stained look directed at Enjolras. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Peters.” He told her softly before walking out the door. 

>>>

“So are we going to talk about it?” Eponine waited at Enjolras’ door. The entire car ride home he remained silent, despite the countless attempts at conversation made by his roommates. Even when they got back to the apartment, he wordlessly made his way to this room and shut the door behind them. Eponine allowed him some space, allowing Grantaire to ask for her help to clean out the junk drawer in the kitchen.

“You weren’t kidding about the level of intensity in that family.” She had told Grantaire.

He had chuckled and shrugged. “The Enjolras family is great big pile of crazy. But doesn’t Enjolras make so much more sense to you?”

Now, she was standing at his door. He was laying down on his bed, staring at the ceiling, face as still as stone. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Eponine,” He said.

Eponine closed the door and sat on the edge of his bed. “Start with what you’re thinking right now.”

The man’s chest raised and lowered as he breathed through his nose. “I hate my family.”

She grinned. “I don’t blame you there.”

He looked down at her. “I’m sorry that you had to be subjected to all of that.”

“I’ve been through worse.” She shrugged. “When I met Montparnasse’s dad, he tried to con $2,000 out of me. He was really into the horse races and was hoping to sponsor a horse.”

“Well, my brother owns at least three, in case you’re interested.” Sarcasm ran through his tone like a river.

“Hey,” She laid down next to him, one arm she draped over his chest, the other propped her head up. “You’re not the only one with a disappointing family.”

One of his hands rested on top of hers. “I don’t know what I was thinking. My father and brother are always going to hate me.”

“Well, I don’t.” Eponine told him. He turned and finally faced her. Offering a small smile, he wrapped his arm around her, and she rested her head on his chest. “I’m sorry about your mom.” She spoke softly. She lifted her head to face him again. “Will you tell me about her?”

Enjolras smiled. “Well, she would have liked you…” He continued to tell her stories about his mother. Eponine listened earnestly, feeling content.


	23. Agog, Aghast

“Good news, mes amis!” Courfeyrac walked up to his friends with an unusually cheerful disposition. Enjolras and Eponine were sitting at the bar, while Grantaire stood behind it.

“Why do I have a really bad feeling about this?” Enjolras grumbled.

“Guess what happened to me at work today.” Courfeyrac sat down at the bar and spoke animatedly. “I was talking with my boss. You know schmoozing up a storm. Girls, stock prices, you know, everything. And it eventually came up that he had a cabin. And I’m sitting there with decisions to make. How far do I take this schmooze? Is it something that I can pull off?”

“What’s the damn punchline, Courf?” Eponine asked.

“I got him to lend us his cabin for an entire weekend!” He announced.

“A cabin? But we’re not the outdoorsy type.” Eponine said.

“Yeah, remember when the power went out for an entire day?” Grantaire reminisced.

Courfeyrac rolled his eyes. “You guys are missing the point. First of all, it’s a cabin, not a tent. So we don’t need to build a fire or anything like that. Second, it’s out in the middle of nowhere, making it a perfect little destination for a couples retreat.”

“And there it is.” Grantaire mumbled.

“A couples retreat, Courf?” Eponine knitted her eyebrows together. “At your boss’ cabin?”

“Yeah, you and Enj plus me and Chetta. Grantaire, you can come too.”

R held a hand over his chest. “Oh, wow, C. You are too kind.”

“Think about it.” Courfeyrac held up his hands as if he was painting the picture. “A getaway in the Californian woods, a romantic backdrop in itself. Trees, lakes, rocks, and… stuff. No modern-day distractions. Just focusing on you and your boo. It’s perfect!”

“And Chetta is good with this?” Enjolras questioned.

“Yes, it happens to be a very specific fantasy that she has…” Courf started to explain before he was cut off by his roommates moaning and groaning. “Oh, come on. Ep, I know how stressed you’ve been at work. Enjolras, well… you haven’t had a relaxing day since kindergarten. But R, I know how much you appreciate a good nature scene. And… he happens to have a hot tub there.”

Eponine sighed. She and Enjolras exchanged looks. “Fine.” Enjolras finally conceded. “But I swear to God, Courf, you get three strikes before we’re out.”

“Well, I’m not about to miss out on some quality roomie time.” Grantaire said. “Not to mention, I’ve got at least ten books I’ve been meaning to crack open for a while. So, I will be joining you.”

“Yay! Roomie retreat, here we come.” Courf cheered.

“But right now,” Eponine stood up. “Enj and I are going to help out at this school garage sale thing.”

“Really, dude?” R asked, not at all hiding his surprise. The Marble Man was not known to be super great around children.

“I’m just going to be counting the money.” He explained.

Eponine placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a warning look. “And he’s going to use his best people skills and play nice. We are not going to have a repeat of the bake sale.”

“Look, if a soccer mom tries to be passive aggressive with me, I will retaliate.” He added.

Enjolras and Eponine bid them goodbye, leaving the two roommates at the bar together. Courfeyrac turned to face his friend. “Man, Eponine is already changing him.”

Grantaire’s gaze lingered a little before he busied himself with glasses or cleaning the bar. “Hmpf.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Do you not like Eponine?”

“Of course I like Eponine. She’s like family.”

“Then what’s with the ‘hmpf’?”

The bartender rolled his eyes. “It’s nothing. Just leave it.”

Courfeyrac studied his friend closely, as if the answer was hidden somewhere on his person. Just then, Musichetta slid over, leaning over the bar. “Hey, you.” She greeted Courf with a smile. The two of them just recently decided that there was no point in hiding their relationship anymore. Mostly because literally everyone knew by now. Not that Courf was one to complain.

“What’s with your boss?” Courfeyrac asked her, barely acknowledging her presence.

She looked over the grumbling Grantaire, then shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe he’s just tripping over Enjolras again.”

“Chetta!” R exclaimed incredulously.

“What do you mean tripping over?” Courf’s eyes were wide.

Musichetta looked from each man. “Dude, have you not told him?” She asked Grantaire.

“Told me what?”

“I was hoping that it was to keep that part of my life out of my apartment.” R pinched his nose.

“That’s fucking stupid. Don’t you think your friends deserve to know?”

Grantaire ran his hands through his unruly curls and began to pace a bit, as his roommate watched concerned. Courfeyrac hadn’t seen act like this since the last time he was into a girl. But… Courfeyrac gasped and looked over Grantaire, finally understanding. “Dude, you’re into Enjolras. Aren’t you?”

Grantaire sighed heavily and leaned against the bar. He had felt comfortable enough to talk about this stuff at work. Mostly because no one really knew his roommates well enough for there to be much overlap. He did not anticipate Musichetta getting involved with Courfeyrac when he hired her. But it was only a matter of time before he had to be confronted with this. In truth, he had fallen for Enjolras since their first night in the dorm room. “Yeah, I am.” He finally admitted quietly.

Meanwhile, Courfeyrac was sputtering out of control. “But… you’re… but you can’t be…. What about all those girls you were…?”

“Yeah, it’s called being bisexual, Courf.”

Musichetta suddenly felt uncomfortable. “I’m going to go check the kegs.” She then slunk away leaving the two roommates alone. Again.

“How could you not tell me?” Courfeyrac asked. “You told Chetta, but not me?”

The bartender sighed and crossed his arms. “I guess… I just didn’t want to… be judged.”

“Dude, we’re best friends. I would never judge you on something as big as that. I don’t care who you’re into.”

“It’s not the sexuality thing. Somehow, I knew you’d be cool with that. I didn’t want you to judge me for going for Enjolras of all people. I mean, he’s… Enjolras.”

Courfeyrac nodded knowingly. “Well, truthfully, I am not judging you. I mean, he’s basically a Greek god. But I guess it all makes sense now. Is that why you were always so brutal to Amelie?”

R chuckled bitterly. “That bitch was psychotic. I was just being a good friend.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t a bit of jealousy?” A thought dawned on him. “That was what the ‘hmpf’ was about. You’re jealous of Eponine…. And you want to go on a couples retreat with them?”

“Look, I have lived with this… feeling for years now.” Grantaire insisted. “I have seen him with many women over the years. I can handle a stupid cabin trip.”

Courfeyrac sighed, blinking fast as he took in all of this new information. “So I take it that you haven’t told him?”

“No, and you better not either, dude. Or I will end you.” Grantaire pointed a threatening finger at them.

“Okay, okay, but we already have 3 secrets in the vault. If we keep this secret, we need to disclose a different one.”

The vault was what Courfeyrac and Grantaire established towards the beginning of their friendship. It was a list of secrets they kept “locked away” from Enjolras. The rule was that they could only keep 3 secrets at a time.

“Oh, come on. I think this can qualify as an exception.” R argued. “Because we definitely can’t tell him about Halloween 2012 and I am not, I repeat not, opening the can of worms that is the tag-team incident.”

“Well, that would leave Professor Bishop or telling him how you feel.”

“No, Courf. I am not going to tell him that. I think we need to amend the cap-off.”

“No, we took a blood oath that it would only be three!”

“There was never blood involved.”

“Yeah, remember when I had that paper cut?”

R rolled his eyes and thought hard. There was no way he was going to tell his best friend that he was in love with him. Maybe if it been a year into the friendship, but they had already logged more than five years together. It would just complicate things and make him feel weird and awkward. The Marble Man was awkward enough around women. To think how he would react over a man falling for him. “Fine, I guess it has to be Professor Bishop then.”

The two men reached for each other’s elbows and shook them, their ‘secret vault handshake’.

Courfeyrac stood and got out his phone. “I’ll call him now. Eponine is going to pissed that we put him in a bad mood.” Still, he dialed and explained to their blonde friend about the time they had stolen their English professor’s prized possessions, a couple of candle sticks, and then sold them to a pawn shop to pay for the couch that currently sat in their apartment. At the time, Professor Bishop had called a class specifically to chew out whoever the thieves were and assign a ten-page essay as punishment unless the thieves came forward. Enjolras had given his two friends a lecture about how thievery is never justified and their plan to tell him went immediately into the vault. Until now that is.

Grantaire tried to busy himself with cleaning or stocking the bar. Now that Courf knew his secret, it was only a matter of time before the rest of the house knew about it. The man wasn’t exactly known for keeping things lowkey. What would Eponine think of him after she found out? What would Enjolras think? Either way, he was left with a real problem. One thing was for sure. The couples retreat was going to be very interesting.


	24. A Tale of the Tail Light

“Welcome to our little getaway!” Courfeyrac stood on the front porch of his boss’ cabin with his arms outstretched. Eponine, Enjolras, and Grantaire pulled up into the driveway. It was a rather modest looking dwelling. It was large and looked rather upscale. But it wasn’t obnoxiously in anyone’s face. It was surrounded by a thick gathering of trees and greenery. It looked to be the perfect getaway, but it could have also been the perfect setting for a horror movie. “Y’all ready for the most romantic weekend of your life.” Courfeyrac went to greet his friends as they unloaded their luggage from the car.

“Courf, can we please be a little sensitive to those who aren’t in a relationship?” Eponine said, nodding not so subtly at Grantaire.

“Excuse me,” He faked being offended. “But I happen to have a very romantic weekend planned with me,” he withdrew a humorously large bottle of alcohol from his bag. “And this bottle of gin.”

“You are not going to be drinking that whole thing in one sitting, are you?” Enjolras asked, almost afraid of the answer.

Grantaire scoffed. “Don’t worry. I brought extras.”

“Hey, guys!” Musichetta exited the cabin at that moment. Following right behind her was a man. He was a scrawny looking man, who was also pretty tall. He had a kind face and a reddish mop of hair on top of his head.

“Who’s your friend?” Eponine asked as they walked towards them.

“This is my roomie, Joly.” She gestured to the skinny man next to her.

He exchanged handshakes and friendly greetings with Enjolras and Eponine, but R purposefully hid behind his friends, scanning over the new man carefully. “Sorry for crashing your little party here.” Joly spoke, revealing he had a British accent. “But Chetta told me there was going to be a hot tub that sounded too good to resist.” Most of the group laughed at his comment.

Musichetta threw an arm around his waist. “He just got out of a relationship recently and I thought he could use a break from the world.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Eponine told him.

Joly waved a hand. “Nah, don’t worry about it. He would have hated this whole camping thing, so what better way to get over a man, eh?” He smiled widely.

“Well, come on in.” Musichetta motioned for them to enter the cabin. “There are 4 rooms and a pull-out couch. First come, first serve.”

“Chetta and I have already claimed the master, so don’t even think about it.” Courf announced. A hand gripped his elbow, holding him back. The rest of the group disappeared inside, except Courf and Grantaire.

“What’s your game, bro?” R asked with an icy tone.

“There’s no game.”

“Bullshit. You plan this super romantic weekend and there just happens to be an extra person available?”

Courfeyrac ripped his elbow from R’s firm grip. “Oh, come on, R. Chetta invited him and… I just didn’t tell her no.”

“You’re unbelievable.” R rolled his eyes and went to storm into the house, but was stopped by Courf jumping in front of him.

“Dude, if you don’t want to get with him, I’m cool with that. I’m not saying everyone needs to be porking the whole weekend.”

“Your boss doesn’t happen to have a jar laying around, does he?”

“But I think he’s a pretty cool guy. I've been chatting with him for a bit and the last guy he was with sounds a lot like our dear friend, Amelie. And if anything, he can just be a drinking buddy for the weekend.”

R considered his words. But then he snorted and said, “If he can keep up.”

>>>

“Yo!” Courfeyrac called from down the hall. The sound of rummaging was followed by running feet. Most everyone was hanging out in the open living room and kitchen, listening to the sounds happen.

Joly leaned over to Musichetta. “Should I be concerned right now?”

He slid into the living room, holding two rifles in each hand. “Guess who found the boss’ gun tote?”

“Courf, are you nuts?” Enjolras jumped up from the couch he sat on and rushed to his friend. “You can’t go playing with these things. These are deadly weapons.”

“They’re not armed, dummy.” Courf assured him. Then he turned to the rest of the group. “Who wants to do some target practice?”

“Do you even know how to use those things?” Eponine asked skeptically.

Courfeyrac turned to Enjolras. “What have you done to her?”

“She has a point, Courf.” Grantaire spoke up. “I don’t think I trust you with a pair of scissors, let alone guns.”

“You guys are no fun.” He whined, jutting out his bottom lip. “Come on, let’s live a little. Let’s kick off this weekend with a bang. Literally!”

“Okay, fine.” Enjolras said. “But I’m going to be monitoring to make sure you don’t hurt yourself.”

Courfeyrac jumped up and ran to the gun closet to grab supplies. “You know how to shoot?” Eponine asked Enjolras.

“My father was a military man, remember?” He then turned to the rest of the group. “If anyone wants to watch, this should be a very interesting sight to behold.”

“Oh, no. I’m not watching.” Musichetta said. “I’m participating. You are looking at a girl who went to hunter’s camp three years in a row. Save the big ones for me, babe!” She ran after Courfeyrac down the hall.

“Will you teach me how to shoot?” Eponine asked Enjolras, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Only if you are willing to follow orders.” He told her, earning a giggle from her. Grantaire sipped from his flask he bought specially for this weekend. “You guys are welcome to join if you want.” Enjolras lead Eponine down the hall, leaving Grantaire and Joly by themselves.

“I’m a little nervous around guns myself.” Joly said. “But you Americans love your guns, I know.”

R stood up. “Well, I’m going to watch and make a drinking game out of it. You’re welcome to join.”

Joly looked at him curiously. “What kind of game?”

“Well, having Courfeyrac around guns is only going to cause mayhem. And having Enjolras overseeing it is only going to add hilarity to said mayhem. So for every missed target Courf shoots, I’m gonna take a shot. Every time Enjolras flips his lid at Courf, I’ll finish it out. Should get pretty drunk before too long.”

Joly smiled. “I’m in.”

>>>

“You shot my car!” Enjolras ran after Courfeyrac, who ran very fast inside the cabin. Joly and Grantaire were sitting on the chairs in one of the sitting rooms that looked over the backyard. They laughed and pointed at the two men chasing each other. From their vantage point, they were able to watch the hilarious scene of Courfeyrac waving his rifle around and accidently shooting one of Enjolras’ taillights out.

Eponine ran close behind them and found the two men laughing. She placed her hands on her hips. “Seriously, R? You’re not even going to try and help?”

He held up his hands innocently. “Hey, he’s your boyfriend. He’s your responsibility.” The sound of screaming and banging came from inside the house. “Oh, man. Courf is dead.” He made a show of crossing his arms, in a Catholic prayer. "Rest in peace, my dude." 

“Pour one out for those who have fallen.” Joly joined in, holding up his glass of alcohol. The two men clinked their containers together and took a large swig.

Eponine rolled her eyes and ran into the house. Musichetta walked in not long after them, holding the rifles in a bundle in her arms. “Aw, man.” She said looking at the two men. “You guys were having fun without me?”

A crashing sound came from within. “Sounds like we’re not the only ones having fun.” R commented.

Musichetta sighed. “Well, can you help me put these bad boys away? I don’t want these to get caught in the crossfire.”

Meanwhile, Courfeyrac got behind the kitchen island while Enjolras stood on the other side. They were in a stand-off. Eponine ran into the room breathless. “Enj, you need to calm down.”

“You try calming down when your FREAKIN’ TAILLIGHT IS SHOT OUT!” Enjolras screamed at Courf, his face turning redder than a tomato.

“It was an accident, bro. Honest!” Courfeyrac tried to assure him.

“I told you not to play with them. I told you that they were deadly weapons. But of course, you never listen to me! And now you are a dead man.” Enjolras bolted one way around the island, but Courf ran away keeping ahead of him. The two men just went in circles for a couple of laps before Eponine stopped Enjolras in his tracks.

“Stop it! Both of you need get a grip or so help me, I will get those guns and open fire on the pair of you!” The running men stalled but eyed each other carefully. “Courf, obviously, you are sorry, right?” Eponine encouraged.

“Yeah, dude. More sorry than I have ever been.” He nodded frantically.

“Sorry is not good enough.” Enjolras tried to jolt forward, but Eponine held him still with an iron grip one would not expect from her slim figure.

“Enjolras, stop. Sure, an apology isn’t going to fix the problem. But I’m sure that Courf is willing pay for the damages.”

Courf paused. “Well…” Enjolras again tried to lunge for him, but Eponine held true. “Okay, fine. Fine! I’ll pay. But just know that I’m a bit strapped for cash right now.”

“What are you talking about?” The blonde spat. “What happened to your ‘super lucrative marketing career’ you’re always bragging about.”

“I got let go, alright!” Everyone paused. Even Joly, Musichetta, and Grantaire, who had just slipped in to get ringside seats to Courf’s beating. All eyes were directed on him, but no one moved.

“What do you mean you got let go, Courf?” Musichetta asked, placing her hands on her hips. “This is your boss’ cabin. Right? Why would he lend you his cabin after he fired you?”

The man hung his head in shame and shoved his hands in his pockets. “It’s my old man’s cabin. I had called him the other day, crying… I mean, explaining that my company was downsizing and that meant I was out of a job. He felt bad enough for me that he leant me his cabin for the weekend.” He let out a sigh. “I didn’t want to tell you guys until I found another job. But it’s rough out there right now. Not many people are hiring. I’m sorry.”

Eponine could feel Enjolras softened under her grip. The rest of the room looked to the others trying to figure out how to navigate their way through the situation. “You should have told us, man.” Enjolras finally said.

Courfeyrac nodded. “I know. And I really am sorry about your car, bro. I will pay for it when I get a job.”

“Let’s not worry about that now.” Eponine said, moving to him. “I’m sorry, Courf.” She wrapped her arms around him and gave him a meaningful hug.

Everyone took turns giving their unemployed friend pats on the back and words of encouragement. Musichetta was the last to approach him. She stood unmoving in front of him. Then, she struck him across his cheek. Everyone gasped and Courfeyrac cradled his face. “Don’t you ever lie to me again. You understand me?” She demanded, forcing him to look her in the eye.

“Yes, ma’am.” He replied before hugging her close.

“Alright, that’s enough feelings for the day.” Grantaire said, digging in the fridge. He pulled out a pack of beers and laid them on the kitchen island in front of everyone. He started to hand each person a beer and said, “In times of troubles, there is only way we know how to deal with it.” The roommates all nodded knowing where this was headed. Musichetta and Joly stood confused and looking at everyone else, hoping to find a clue. Once everyone had a beer in hand, Grantaire raised his beer in the air.

“Un, deux, trois, who’s there?”

“French Revolution! Fire!”


	25. L'Hangover

A hangover. The last time Grantaire suffered a hangover was the night he graduated high school. He had prided himself on building up his tolerance to rival a 90-year-old alcoholic. Throughout college, he was the marvel of all the little freshmen, as he would shotgun beer after beer and still be able to write a paper on Voltaire. And often times, drunk-written papers were the highest grades he got. Then come morning, he would drink some of his Cure Juice and bounce right back in for round two.

But not today. Today, he was hungover. His head throbbed harder than the drum the Energizer bunny beat on. It hurt to open his eyes. When did the sun get to be so bright? Not to mention, his entire body seemed to ache for some reason. Without opening his eyes, he used his hands to feel the odd thing he felt on his chest. Oh no… R peeked his eyes open just enough to see that he was for some reason wearing a pink laced bra over his t-shirt. The memory of that being placed on him, or even him putting himself in it, was nonexistent. In fact, most of the night was a blur.

Somehow, Grantaire found the courage to sit up, despite the world spinning around him. It was then that he remembered that they were in Courfeyrac’s dad’s cabin. But when he sat up, he faced the loveseat that was on the opposite wall. It was an ugly loveseat that any little old lady would have fainted over. But that’s not what got his attention. In the loveseat, limbs akimbo and half naked, laid a passed out Joly. He was so startled by this sight he accidently let out a little yelp.

At the sound of this yelp, Joly awoke and jerked his body in a way that forced him to the ground. The thin man laid on his back, groaning and twisting his face in pain. “Blimey, my head.” His hands rubbed his temples.

 _Damn that British accent_ , Grantaire thought. “Join the club.” He mumbled aloud, but not too loud, so as not upset his headache.

Joly looked down at his half-naked body, meaning just in his boy shorts. “Why am I only wearing pants?”

“You’re not wearing pants.” Grantaire told him.

“Oh, underwear, I meant.” Joly sat up, very slowly. One hand still cradled his head. “Why do you Americans have to overcomplicate simple words?”

“Because we’ll always be bitter about the taxation issue,” R pushed his feet down to the floor, but did not feel strong enough to stand yet. “Oh, I feel like death.”

“I can’t recall anything that happened last night.” Joly added. “What was that game called?”

“The Game from Hell.” His hands rubbed his face.

“Please don’t tell me that I tried to make a move on you last night.” Grantaire’s eyes flew open and his movements stilled. A very vague and blurry memory lingered in his groggy brain. He kissed someone last night. And it was not a woman. It was difficult for him to see who it was, but he did remember feeling…. Well, something harden. Who was it?

“I couldn’t tell you, dude.” R replied honestly. He just prayed that no one remembered last night either. Truthfully, he would not want to know if he had kissed any of the men along for this trip.

“Then why am I wearing lip gloss?” Joly asked, feeling his lips and licking the corners. “Cherry flavored?”

“I hate cherries, so it ain’t mine.” Grantaire finally felt brave enough to raise himself on his feet. Wanting to get out of that room, he moved to the door.

“You’re wearing a bra, you know.” Joly told him.

“I’m aware.” Grantaire said in an uncaring tone. He shuffled into the hallway and made his way to the kitchen, bra and all.

Musichetta happened to be in the kitchen brewing coffee. Her hair was pulled into a very messy bun on top of her head and the dark circles under her eyes told him that she was just as hungover as him. She looked up when he slumped into the kitchen and gave a quick scan of his appearance. “Pink’s your color.” She stated nonchalantly.

Grantaire leaned on the kitchen counter. “Please tell me that your head hurts as much as mine does.”

She shrugged. “It’s not as bad anymore. I think I threw up most of the pain this morning.”

As he groaned, Eponine poured into the kitchen. She wore boxer shorts on her head and was wearing an overly large t-shirt with a cartoon monkey on a hammock that said, “Banana Hammock’. She looked at the other two with her raccoon eyes. “Someone care to explain my appearance?” Her voice was gravely and slightly slurred. When her eyes fell on Grantaire, she asked, “And why are you wearing my bra?”

“Well, that’s one mystery solved.” Grantaire said, finally taking off the bra and tossing it in Eponine’s direction.

“Guys, I have never been this hungover.” Eponine told them, a strange sense of urgency in her voice. “I woke up in the bathroom and that’s where I have been for most of the morning. What the hell happened last night?”

“Babe, you’re drooling a little.” Musichetta reached out and wiped her friend’s chin with her thumb.

Joly and Courfeyrac entered the kitchen, Joly wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt this time. Courfeyrac, on the other hand, proudly sauntered around in just his boxer shorts. “Courf, are you for real?” R asked annoyed.

“Time is relative, and pants are optional,” He answered, placing a kiss on Musichetta’s forehead.

“You’re awfully cheery this morning.” His girlfriend commented as she poured herself a small mug of coffee. “Aren’t you hungover too?”

“Yeah, but seeing your beautiful face in the morning just puts a skip in my step.”

Chetta rolled her eyes. “Ugh, someone find me a jar.”

“One thing is for sure; you guys know how to party.” Joly held out a mug for Musichetta to pour coffee in.

“Let’s not say party for a while, okay?” Eponine said. Suddenly, she slapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, god, here it comes.” She ran down the hall to the bathroom.

“Where’s Enjolras, by the way?” Grantaire asked, looking around at everyone.

Upon hearing the question, everyone also looked around at each other. “He’s probably still sleeping off the booze.” Courfeyrac reasoned. “I’ll go rouse the sleeping lion.”

“Do it at your own risk, dude.” Grantaire called after him, as the man slipped down the hallway to the bedroom he was staying in. He was really regretting not bringing Cure Juice along with this trip.

“This may sound a bit odd,” Joly said to Chetta. “But do you know if either of you girls wear cherry lip gloss?”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath in. “That would be me. If my memory serves me correctly, I put it on you because you said your lips were chapped.”

“So you put on lip gloss?” Grantaire questioned.

“Okay, I’m not going to be judged by a man wearing someone else’s bra for most of the night.”

Grantaire held up his hands in surrender. At the time, Courfeyrac returned. “Enjolras isn’t in his room.”

Everyone turned and gave him incredulous looks. “What?” They asked.

“See for yourself if you want. He’s not in there.”

All of the bodies in the kitchen moved down the hallway, passed the bathroom. The sounds of a retching Eponine echoed from within. They all poked their head in the room and saw that Courfeyrac was right. The bed was still made, as if no one had slept in it all night. From there, they all decided to spread out throughout the cabin, looking for the blonde friend.

“Okay, now I’m getting freaked out.” Musichetta said, as everyone reconvened in the kitchen, including a sick and worried Eponine. “He’s not anywhere in this house.”

“His car is still out front,” Eponine reported, looking out the front windows.

“Do you think he might have gone for a walk?” Joly suggested.

The rest of the house bickered among themselves, swapping their own theories. Grantaire, however, scraped at his memory bank. He stood still and tried to dust off the cobwebs in his brain. Suddenly, a thought struck him. “Hangover!” He yelped.

Everyone paused mid-conversation and looked at him. “Yeah, dude. We all have a hangover.” Courfeyrac said slowly, as if he was crazy.

“No, guys, the movie!” Grantaire explained. “They lost their friend, Doug, but where did they find him?”

Eponine’s face fell in realization. “The roof!”

Everyone ran out of the front door and backed up trying to look up at the roof of the cabin and calling out their friend’s name. As they stepped back further and further, the shape of crumpled pile of Enjolras was visible on the roof. He wore a winter parka and was only in his boxer shorts and red socks. And he was passed out.

“Enjolras!” Courfeyrac called out. Their friend did not stir.

“Is he dead?” Musichetta asked.

“No, he just sleeps like the dead.” Grantaire’s mind raced, trying to figure out how he got up there in the first place. The roof was not accessible from the ground or even by a window. “How did he get up there?”

“Maybe this helped.” Joly called. They all looked to see the British man standing by the cabin and holding up a metallic ladder. Grantaire and Courfeyrac ran over to him, and all three men set up the ladder against the walls.

“Whose parka is that?” Eponine asked, never taking her eyes off of him. “We live in California for Christ’s sake.”

“It must be Courf’s dad’s.” Musichetta reasoned. She wrapped an arm around Eponine’s shoulders. “We certainly know how to pick our men, eh?”

By this time, Grantaire, who had pushed his way up the ladder first, got to Enjolras. Even in sleep, the man still looked physically flawless. Damn him. “Enjolras, wake the fuck up!” He slapped his friend’s face a couple times.

Blissfully, the blonde stirred, his eyebrows pushed together and he opened his eyes to meet his attacker. “What the hell?” He asked groggily.

“Oh, thank god.” Grantaire exhaled. He turned his head toward the ground. “He’s alive!”

>>>

They all sat silently around the living room. After they had successfully gotten Enjolras off the roof, they wrapped him up in blankets to warm him up. Now, they all sat in silence, all staring at the floor.

“So…” Grantaire said slowly. “No one remembers what happened last night?”

“Are you sure we didn’t get roofied?” Eponine asked.

Everyone turned their gaze at Courfeyrac. When he noticed that people were looking at him, he scoffed. “First of all, ouch! And secondly, I would never roofie any of you. Besides, I blacked out, too. Why would I roofie myself?”

Musichetta rubbed his arm comfortingly. “We did all drink like it was the end of the world.” She commented. “Fuzzy memories were bound to be the result.”

“I’ve never ended up on the roof before.” Enjolras muttered.

“And why was Grantaire wearing my bra?” Eponine asked.

“So last night was not a normal occurrence for all of you?” Joly also asked.

Everyone started talking all at once, asking questions to no one and recounting what they did remember.

“I think I kissed a dude last night.” Courfeyrac admitted loudly, causing everyone to stop talking and look at him once again.

“What did you say?” Enjolras asked him, fear dripping in his tone. The level of uncomfortableness rose exponentially by the second.

“I’m pretty sure I kissed someone here last night. Although, I don’t remember the person, but I do remember him getting… excited.” Another moment of silence fell in the room.

Grantaire finally sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “I’m pretty sure that was me.”

Gasps littered the room. Courfeyrac stared at him with a pale expression. “What?”

“I also remember kissing a dude last night… And I feel like I have hit a new low.”

“What the hell guys?” Enjolras stood up, trying to process all of this information. “What does that mean?”

“It means that I was way more drunk than I thought.” Courfeyrac said, staring off into space.

“Maybe I do drink too much…” R considered.

“But you said…” Eponine cut herself and looked at Grantaire. “R, are you into Courfeyrac?”

Grantaire gagged dramatically and also stood. “Ugh, no! I need to go take a very long shower.”

Enjolras grabbed his friend’s arm. “No, you are not about to walk out on this.” He told him. “You need to explain yourself right now.”

“What’s to explain? I obviously got hammered enough last night to mistake Courf for literally anyone else. It was a very gross and drunken mistake.”

“Screw you, man.” Courfeyrac finally spoke up. “I’m a catch, okay? You’re only mad because I’m not the man you wanted to make out with.”

“Courf, shut up!” R yelled. Everyone looked to him with various degrees of realization. But no one spoke. Grantaire looked to all of his friends, suddenly feeling like an ant under a microscope. Was the room getting smaller? “Okay, okay.” He held out his hands and took a deep breath in. “I guess there’s no use in avoiding this any longer. I’m… shit, dude, this is really hard to say. I’m… I’m bi.” Still, no one spoke or moved. “Someone please say something.”

Eponine was the first to speak. “I called it!” She then pointed to Enjolras. “You owe me twenty bucks.”

Grantaire looked confused. “What?”

She stood and slowly walked towards him. “Babe, you ogled over the guy who plays Dean Winchester and that cute barista girl at Starbucks. I knew it from the first week of moving in. But thank you for telling us.” She wrapped him in a hug. But then she turned to Courfeyrac. “Did you know?”

“Chetta knew first.” He pointed to his girlfriend.

She then turned back to Grantaire slugged him in the arm. “You told Musichetta and Courfeyrac before me?”

They bickered among themselves, but Grantaire went over to Enjolras, who stood still and unreadable. “Penny for your thoughts?” The curly haired man asked hopefully. The hope was that things weren’t going to change.

The Marble Man looked to him. “How long have you known?”

R shrugged. “Since high school. There was a guy in my art class that I was obsessed with. But of course, he had a girlfriend at the time, so nothing ever came of it.”

Enjolras’ laser blue eyes bored into him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Grantaire refused to look him in the eye. “I didn’t want it to effect anything. And I was worried that…”

“That what? I would have stopped hanging out with you? Do you really think I’m that close-minded?”

“No, no. I just…” He debated on whether or not to come clean to him then. But then he thought back to the vault. The secret that he and Courf had locked away was about his feelings for Enjolras, about his sexuality. Because of the rules of the vault, he couldn’t tell him without consulting Courfeyrac first. “I just never found the right moment. But you’re right. I should have told you. I’m sorry, man.” He held out his hand to him.

Enjolras looked down at his hand and then back to meet his eyeline. A thin-lipped grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Thanks for telling me.” He grabbed his friend’s hand and pulled him in for a bro hug.

“Well, I’m sufficiently uncomfortable,” Joly announced. Everyone looked at him as if they forgot he was there. “For the record, Grantaire, I’m glad you’re out now. I know how much courage it took for you to come clean like that. But since this is my very first time meeting all of you, I can proudly say that this has been the most strangest weekend I’ve ever experienced in my life. That being said, I am very much touched by the level of care each of you have for each other and I would like to formally request to hang out with you all more often.”

“You got it, pal.” Courfeyrac slapped him on the back.

“Okay, I’m hungry now.” Musichetta said as she stood. “Who wants to teach me how to fry bacon on a stove?”

They all moved to the kitchen, as Grantaire volunteered his services of helping cook.

“By the way, R,” Enjolras said, as they made their way towards the stove. “Who was the man you were hoping to make out with?”

Grantaire swallowed a lump in his throat before answering, “Dean Winchester. The man’s got a jaw line of the gods.”


	26. I'm Coming Out

“Are you sure you guys are going to be okay?” Eponine asked for what had to be at least the sixteenth time in an hour. It had been at least a week since they got back from their cabin trip. Things had gone back to normal for the most part. Except for the fact that Courfeyrac kept trying to set Grantaire up with literally anyone they came in contact with, much to the utter annoyance to Grantaire. Now, Enjolras and Eponine were going out on a date night, and they were both very nervous leaving their two roommates alone.

“Ugh, Mom, you’re smothering us.” Grantaire groaned dramatically. “We are adults, you know?”

“Yeah, we are very responsible.” Courfeyrac nodded along. He was sitting next to Grantaire on the couch. Unseen by Eponine, R gave him a warning kick.

Enjolras entered the room, slipping on a suit jacket. “Yeah, right. You guys are the poster children for responsible.”

“May we remind you of the time we left to get groceries and you nearly burned down the whole building?” Eponine crossed her arms.

“Oh, for the fortieth time,” Courfeyrac rolled his eyes. “I was just making pasta. I was not the one who kept the mail that close to the burner.”

“You could have moved them.” She countered. “You know, since paper and heat don’t normally create rainbows.”

“Look, you are worried about nothing.” R assured them. “All we’re going to do is have a lazy night in. There’s supposed to be a Spongebob marathon on Nick tonight so we’re booked solid.”

It was Enjolras’ turn to roll his eyes. “Just remember that the landlord is doing a safety inspection tomorrow morning.” He then jabbed his finger in their direction. “So no, I repeat, no parties.”

Courfeyrac made a cross over his heart. “I solemnly swear.”

“R, did you hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah. I heard you, Dad.”

“Stop it. I need to hear you promise me that you won’t have any parties. Because I am not going to have the landlord inspect a messy and boozy apartment.”

Grantaire made a show of begrudgingly standing up and crossing his heart. “As God as my witness, I will not throw a party or may He smite me where I stand.”

“You will text us if any smiting happens.” Eponine told them.

Courfeyrac gestured towards the door. “Would you two just go? We’ll be fine.”

Eponine and Enjolras exchanged glances before shuffling out the door slowly. Grantaire and Courfeyrac waved goodbye to them as they settled back into the couch and flipped through the channels on the TV.

As soon as the door closed, Courfeyrac leapt up to his feet again and flashed his friend a childish grin. “When the parents are away, the kids come out to play!”

“What on Earth are you talking about?” Grantaire asked in a monotone voice.

“I’m talking about your coming out party that’s happening tonight!”

R leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, running his hands over his face. “I thought you were joking about that.” He had brought it up a couple days before, and Grantaire had agreed to it, mostly because he was slightly intoxicated when they talked about it. 

Courf scoffed. “Why would I ever joke about a party? Now come on, I told people they could start arriving at 8. We need to get this place party ready.”

“Dude, you heard the Marble Man. We can’t throw a party. Not tonight. Besides, why would I have a coming out party and not invite my two best friends?”

“Because your two best friends happen to be the man that you’re in love with and his girlfriend. So now it’s up to your bestest friend to get you a girlfriend or boyfriend.”

“But Enj said…”

“I’m sorry, have you seen Richard Grantaire anywhere?” Courf looked around the room as he spoke. “He was just here and he suddenly got replaced by a lame-ass baby.”

“Clever.”

“Okay, I’ve already had at least 10 people tell me that they’re coming. And don’t worry. I am in contact with Eponine right now and she told me that she will send me a text when they are heading back. So, all we need to do is make sure it stays lowkey enough for us to shove people out the door and Enjolras won’t have a clue that even happened.”

Grantaire bit the inside of his cheek. It was clear that this had been very thoroughly planned out. A party did sound fun… “Fine. But it better be lowkey.”

>>>

It wasn’t. Turns out in LA, when people get invited to parties, they have to invite three or friends. Which is fine when it’s only one or two people. But when you invited 15 people, the number of people tends to increase a bit.

That’s not to say that the party wasn’t fun. Grantaire and Courfeyrac slipped into their old college selves and quickly adapted to being the perfect party hosts. Through their experience, they learned that the key to being a good host was to keep people drinking and have a rocking playlist. The playlist, which as you may have guessed was curated during their college years, consisted of a wide variety of music. Pop, rap, 80s hair bands, 90s boy bands, all the crowd-pleasers.

When Musichetta arrived, she brought a keg from the Musain, which only inspired people to take turns doing keg stands. Grantaire was the reigning champ, many people would challenge him, but failed. Joly was also amongst the guests. By the time he got there, Grantaire had already done 3 keg stands. So suffice to say that he was sufficiently drunk.

“Jolyyyyyy!” He greeted the scrawny British man jovially. “How long has it been, man?”

“A week.” Joly couldn’t help but chuckle at the man’s drunken state. “I see you’ve been indulging in your favorite pastime.”

“You gotta play catch up, dude.” He said, shoving a beer bottle in the man’s hand. “You need to experience this party on my level.”

“Well, I’m scared, but cheers,” Joly chugged the entire beer bottle.

>>>

“You worry too much.” Eponine told Enjolras with a bemused smile on her face. The two of them had enjoyed a nice dinner at an upscale restaurant and were now driving back towards their apartment. He drove with both of his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.

Enjolras only grunted as he fixed his eyes on the road. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his roommates, he just knew them really well. He felt a hand touch his hand, which caused him to smile. Taking a hold of her hand, he said, “I’m sorry.”

“No need to be sorry,” She shook her head. “I know it comes from a place of love.”

He let out a puff of air through his nose. “You ever think we’re too codependent as a friend group?”

“Well, maybe just a little. But I like it. It’s a refreshing change to what I’ve been used to for most of my life.”

“Well, it’s definitely different to how I grew up.” They rode in a comfortable silence for a bit. Driving in LA always takes at least a half an hour more than it would anywhere else in the world.

Then Eponine spoke, breaking the silence. “Do you think it’s strange that we’ve only been dating for… how long has it been now?”

“About a month, right?”

“Yeah, just about. Anyway, don’t you think that it’s strange that we’ve been dating for a month and we already live together?”

Enjolras knit his eyebrows together. “I mean, we’ve always lived together, Eponine.”

“Yeah, but most of the time, a couple doesn’t live together until further along in a relationship. I mean, with Montparnasse, I think I moved in with him like two years into the relationship.”

“No offense, but I don’t think that’s the best example to give since he abused and cheated on you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Okay, but you get my point, don’t you? When did you and Amelie move in together?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying that… you know what, you’re right.” Eponine slumped against the seat. “Never mind.”

A small moment of silence passed before Enjolras spoke again. “I don’t think we have a normal relationship, Eponine. But I don’t think that matters. I mean, when you think about it, living together kind of gives more of an advantage over others. We already know what it’s like to share a space.”

“But it’s still kind of different. I mean, yeah, we share an apartment, but we still have our own rooms.”

“Yeah.” He thought about her words for a second. “Are you saying that we should move in, move in together?”

“I don’t know.” She tilted her head. “Maybe we shouldn’t. Not yet anyway. That can be something we work our way towards.”

“Okay.” He nodded. They pulled into the parking lot of their apartment building. After he put the car in park, Enjolras turned towards Eponine. “Would you have moved in with me if I had asked?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Would you have if I had asked?”

He considered it for a minute. “Yes,” He answered.

“Really?” She gave him a shocked look. “Why?”

“Because… I like where we’re at. And I feel like, even though it’s been short, our relationship has been solid and gets more solid as time goes on. So, living together… it just doesn’t seem that scary to me.”

Eponine regarded him, as she tried to fight the urge to smile. She would be lying if she didn’t think that he had a point. Maybe it wasn’t too terrible of an idea. “You know, you’re a secret softie.” She remarked.

Enjolras smiled into a laugh. “Just don’t tell the guys. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” She leaned across and kissed him tenderly. “Want to go see what episode of Spongebob they’re watching?”

“Not really.”

>>>

Spin the Bottle. A childish game. Only middle schoolers going through puberty play it. Tonight was the exception. Thanks to the drunken mind of Courfeyrac, a game of Spin the Bottle was occurring on their living room floor. The rest of the party raged on, some onlookers had gathered to watch the game. Grantaire, Courfeyrac, Joly, Musichetta, and a few randoms were a part of the circle on the floor.

The bottle spun after Grantaire twisted it. As it spun, he prayed to any god that he could think of that it didn’t land on Courfeyrac. It didn’t. Instead, it landed on Joly. After some guffawing and cheering from the circle, the two men met in the middle and locked lips. Each of them could taste how much alcohol the other had consumed.

What they didn’t notice during their mini make out session was the quiet that fell in the circle. They parted and looked around to see everyone staring up. Up at Eponine and Enjolras. Eponine looked like she was both amused and angry. Enjolras, on the other hand, was only consumed with a red hot rage, his normally blue eyes black and staring directly at Courfeyrac and Grantaire. His arms were folded across his chest. Drunk Grantaire couldn’t help but notice that his biceps were barely contained in his suit jacket and cursed under his breath.

“Get these people out of here.” The blonde ordered through his teeth. “Right now.”

“Grumpy goose!” Joly drunkenly shouted and pointed at Enjolras. The crowd around them, unaware of the new arrivals turned and echoed Joly’s decree. They then started spray their alcohol at him, giving him a beer shower. Courfeyrac, Eponine, and Grantaire could only stare open mouthed, as they could practically see the steam coming out of his ears.

“Everyone out!” Enjolras screamed. He went to the bookshelf and unplugged the phone from the speakers. The apartment whined and booed at him. “If this apartment is not cleared in 15 seconds, I will be suing everyone in attendance! 1… 2…”

The party goers didn’t need anymore encouragement. They all sped out the door. Courfeyrac tried to crawl his way out too, before Eponine stood in front of him, blocking off his exit.

Joly and Musichetta were the last ones out the door. “Lovely to see you all again.” Chetta said, waving to the group.

“A jolly good time, as always.” Joly added, before Eponine closed the door and locked it.

Grantaire and Courfeyrac sat on the floor with their heads bowed in shame.

“Well, what do you two have to say for yourself?” Enjolras demanded, placing his hands on his hips.

“What happened to your promise?” Eponine chimed in.

“Sorry.” The two boys mumbled, still refusing to look up at their roommates.

“Sorry is not good enough.” Enjolras continued. “Are you two seriously just that stupid? What part of ‘no parties’ was unclear to the pair of you?”

The two on the floor looked at each other, exchanging a silent conversation. The same silent conversation they had when they got caught stealing Enjolras’ car. The same one they had when he had given them a lecture on thievery after they had stolen their professor’s candlesticks. The same one they had when Eponine yelled at them for getting high off her glue supplies. Grantaire sighed and opened his mouth, ready to deny everything.

But Courfeyrac answered first. “It was Grantaire’s party!”


	27. Little People

“Courfeyrac! I have good news for you!” Eponine skipped into his bedroom with a wide smile. “Whoa!” She sheltered her eyes when she saw him literally hog tied on his bed. Luckily he was still wearing heart covered boxer shorts. Musichetta stood on the side of the bed in a silky black nightgown.

“Eponine,” Courfeyrac bemoaned. “The next words out of your mouth better be either ‘I won the lottery and am sharing my wealth with you’ or ‘Brad Pitt is at our front door’. If not, then get out.”

“Why are you tied up like that?” Eponine asked incredulously.

“I don’t think you want to know.” Musichetta said, pulling her night gown around her tighter.

“Eponine, out. Now” Courfeyrac repeated.

“I was going to tell you about this new job I might have got you, but I guess…”

“Whoa, whoa, what?” He wiggled his body so that he was laying on his side, so he could face her better. “What job?”

“My school needs a new mascot for the upcoming Spring Jamboree and I submitted your name.” Eponine explained, still covering her eyes.

“A mascot? For kids?” He scoffed. “Pass.”

“They’re really desperate, Courf. The kids love Chippy the Squirrel. The teacher that normally plays Chippy is on extended leave. Apparently, he was hotboxing in the costume.”

Musichetta snickered. “That sounds about right for public schools.”

“And it’s not just the mascot,” Eponine continued. “They’re also in need of a computer teacher. Someone who has experience with word documents and spreadsheets. Isn’t that basically what you did in your last job?”

“Ep, you seem to be forgetting the kids part. Okay, I don’t know if you have ever met me but I don’t have a filter. Whatever comes into my brain, it’s gonna come out. The thought of me leading America’s youth at any capacity should scare you. Like a lot.” 

“It pays $20 an hour.”

“I’m in.”

“Yay! Thank you! Can you be ready tonight by 4?”

“Only if you leave now and shut the door.”

>>>

“Why am I here?” Grantaire asked as they stood in Eponine’s school gym.

“You’re going to help run the Plinko stand.” Eponine reminded him, handing him a roll of tickets. “And because you are being punished for throwing a rager without me.”

R rolled his eyes. “Ugh, I already said I was sorry. I thought the grounding was sufficient enough.”

“Stop. Now your job is very simple. The kids are going to come up and drop their disk into the thingy. The disk will drop in a cup that tells them how many tickets they won. All you have to do is give them the right amount of tickets. And not be an a-hole.”

“I can’t even swear?!” Grantaire whined.

Eponine gripped his arm tightly. “You will be on your best behavior; do you hear me? I want nuns to be jealous of how pious you are acting. Am I clear?”

With a grimace, he replied. “Crystal.”

She let go of his arm. “I’m going to go check on Courf and Enjolras. If you need you run out of tickets, come find me.”

“Okay, but when do I pour the beer?”

“R!”

“Kidding! It was a joke, Ep, come on.”

She ignored him and went to the cake walk station, which was being manned by Enjolras. Courfeyrac was talking with him. He was wearing the Chippy costume, minus the head, which he held by his side. It was a very amusing sight. “Courf, kids are going to be showing up any minute.” Eponine scolded as she approached. “Put on your head.”

“I’m starting to regret agreeing to this.” Courf whined.

“But think of how much tail you’re going to catch in this thing.” Enjolras joked. This earned a punch in the arm from Chippy.

“Knock it off.” Eponine pushed Courf back a few steps. “Chippy doesn’t punch people. Now put on your head and play your part. And so help me, if I get one report of you feeling up a mom, I will go postal on your ass.”

“Don’t worry. I’m taken now.” He assured her as he placed the head of the squirrel over his. The dead eyes of the squirrel looked back at his friends. “Yep. Chippy definitely was friends with Mary Jane.”

“You look good.” Enjolras flashed a thumbs up, trying to hide his snickering.

“Screw you, bro.” And with that, Chippy waltzed over to the doors of the gym, waving at the kids just pouring in the gym.

Eponine placed a hand on Enjolras’ shoulder. “Thanks again for helping out tonight.”

“You really think I was going to miss Courf dressed up as a squirrel? Or even R interacting with kids in general? You couldn’t keep me away.”

She smiled. “Glad to know that they’re the main motivator of the night.”

“Oh, you’re right. I’m sorry. I also wanted some cake.”

She laughed and the Spring Jamboree went into full swing.

Not that any of the boys would admit this aloud, but they actually had a lot of fun. Grantaire had one small spat with an eight-year-old over superheroes that Eponine quickly intervened by gently suggesting the kid go to a different booth. When the kid finally went, she gave him a death glare. To which he replied, “It wasn’t my fault. He was the one who tried to tell me Superman could beat Batman. I was just trying to educate him.”

Courfeyrac got more and more comfortable in the costume as the night went on. Eponine wasn’t kidding when she said that the kids loved Chippy. Most of the kids, even some of the fifth graders, jumped in glee when they say him. It was what he thought it must be like to be a celebrity. He would do dance moves, pose for pictures, and gave out so many high fives, fist bumps, and hugs.

Eponine and Enjolras were in charge of the cake walk; Eponine worked the boombox and Enjolras handed out the cakes they would win. He got to see firsthand how the kids would flock to her, give her hugs, and excitedly show her the prizes they had already won. It was clear that she was well-loved by her students.

“Is that your boyfriend?” One of the girls had asked her, pointing to Enjolras and falling into a fit of giggles.

“Yes, he is.” She beamed, amused by her giggling.

The little girl went over to Enjolras. He greeted her with a tight smile. Despite everything, he still felt uncomfortable around kids. “Your girlfriend is pretty.” She told him, again giggling.

“You’re right. She is.” He nodded.

>>>

“Achoo!” Grantaire sneezed in the back seat of the car. It was the end of the night, and they were piling into Eponine’s small car. Courfeyrac and Grantaire sat in the back, while Eponine and Enjolras were outside talking with another teacher.

“Dude, do not tell me that those little petri dishes got you sick that quickly.” Courfeyrac said, pushing himself to the edge of the car as far away from his friend as possible.

Grantaire waved a dismissive hand and wiping his nose with his arm. “Don’t worry. No germ can live in a body that’s 80% beer.”

Couf sighed out relief. He sat in a tank top and basketball shorts, slurping water, and dripping in sweat. Chippy was fun, but he was also incredibly stuffy. “Is it possible to get a secondhand high from a squirrel costume?”

“I don’t think so. But you reek, bro.”

“Listen, Chippy did not allow for scent to travel anywhere. It was a living nightmare.”

R pushed his t-shirt over his mouth and nose. “Yeah, what a bust this night was.”

“Totally and utterly stupid.”

They sat in silence for a moment until R heard a pop. He looked and saw that Courf was holding a little Lego man on a keychain. “Courf, what is that?”

As if he just realized that he was still holding it, Courf looked down. “Oh, just some stupid toy.”

“Yeah, I can see that. Why do you have it?”

Courf shrugged and looked out the window. “I found it.”

“Bullshit. Why do you have that little Lego dude?”

“Cause some stupid little kid gave it to me.” He admitted quietly, making sure to puff out his chest a little.

Grantaire nodded and smiled. “They did?”

“Yeah, he felt bad that Chippy didn’t have any prizes so…” Courf cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“That’s adorable.” R mocked.

“Shut up, bro.”

“No, I think it’s super sweet.” He reached over to look at the Lego closer, but Courf caught his hand. R struggled to retract it, but Courf held it up under the parking lot lights. On the back of Grantaire’s hand was a sticker shaped like a daisy. A little smiley face was drawn on the bud of the flower.

“What is this?”

“Shut up. It’s nothing.” R punched his friend in the arm until he finally released his arm. Then he sighed. “Some little girl asked what my favorite flower was, and then before I knew it, she stuck the sticker on my hand.”

“So why not take it off then?”

“Why not throw away your little Lego guy?”

The two men stared at each other in mutual understanding.

Just then, Eponine and Enjolras got into the car. “So you guys have fun?” She asked the backseat as she turned on the car.

“Pfft, no.”

“Worst night of my life.”

“Kids are idiots.”

“Stupid little kids.”


	28. Je te deteste

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you to those of you who have made it this far and for all of your kind words for my little story!  
> Second, due to this chapter hitting a little too close to home right now, I am going to be that annoying person and say PLEASE STAY HOME! Wash your hands and stay healthy my friends.
> 
> But now for the fun.

“I hate you.” Courfeyrac told Grantaire, who was sitting on the other side of the couch from him. “No germ can live inside a body with a lot of beer, huh?”

The two men took turns coughing and sneezing into Kleenex. Their eyes were watery and puffy. In summary, they were sick. They laid on the couch, watching stupid cartoons or whatever else they could find on TV.

“I curse the child that cursed me. Those little rat bastards are dead to me.” R promised.

Enjolras entered the room at that point, took one look at the couch, and jumped back. He held the briefcase in his hand up in front of his chest. “Whoa, are you guys sick?”

“No, we just enjoy sitting here with tissues shoved up our noses.” Grantaire retorted.

“Why aren’t you guys in your rooms? We share this space.” Enjolras walked closer to them, still holding his briefcase up in front of him.

“This is where the TV is.” Courfeyrac pointed to the device playing Fairy OddParents.

“Will you put the shield down, Captain America?” R snapped. “You’re making me feel like an alien.”

“I cannot afford to get sick right now.” The blonde man explained. “I’ve got a big trial coming up and I have worked too hard to take a sick day.”

“Fine, then just don’t let us sneeze on you and you’ll be good.” Courf replied.

“Hey, guys.” Eponine greeted as she entered the room. “Oh, no. Are you guys sick?”

“Wow, we really live with some highly intelligent people, Courfeyrac.” Grantaire droned.

Eponine went up to them and felt their foreheads. Enjolras stood there shocked. “Eponine, are you nuts? Do you want to get sick too?”

“Relax, Enj. It looks like your normal, run of the mill cold.” Eponine frowned when she felt their foreheads. “You both are burning up. Do you feel warm?”

“I feel great,” Courfeyrac said. “But thank you for asking, Wanda. But where’s Cosmo?”

“Okay, so you definitely have a fever.” She nodded slowly. “I’m going to get the ibuprofen.”

“I’m going to work early.” Enjolras announced. “I need to get out of this enclosed space before I get sick.”

Eponine paused in her movement and looked at him with her hands on her hips. “What’s with you? It’s just a cold.”

“Oh, didn’t you know?” R spoke up. “Our Marble Man is a wee bit of a hypochondriac and germaphobe.”

“I am simply cautious.” Enjolras countered. “You know I have that big Patterson trial coming up. I can’t afford to take a sick day. This is one of the most important cases of my career.”

“Well, I think you’ll be fine.” Eponine smiled. “But first, I want to give you a big hug and kiss to wish you luck at work.”

“That’s not funny, Eponine.” Enjolras backed up to the door.

“No, come on. One hug?”

“I’ll give you a big ol’ smooch.” Courfeyrac volunteered from the couch. “Pucker up buttercup.”

“How about a quick snuggle session before you go?” R added.

“You all suck.” Enjolas quickly exited the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

>>>

“I hate you.” Enjolras told the two men sitting on the couch. They looked up to see the Marble Man in pajamas, a blanket wrapped around his upper body, and Kleenex in his nose.

“Dad? Is that you?” Grantaire joked.

“Welcome to the couch.” Courfeyrac gestured to the couch next to him. “We’ve been expecting you.”

The blonde plopped down in the center of the couch bitterly. “You two are so lucky the trial happened to have been delayed.”

“Just shut up and watch the show.” R said, motioning to the TV, now playing iCarly.

“Oh, no.” Eponine said, as she entered the room with soup she had just made for the two other men. “Don’t tell me they got to you?”

“I tried to warn you.” Enjolras shrugged. “Everyone made fun of me for being cautious. And I still ended up being sick. I guess death is inevitable.”

“Okay, here’s your guys’ soup. And I better go grab some more for Edgar Allen Poe here.” She placed the two bowls in each man’s lap. Before she went to get soup, she felt the blonde’s forehead. “Do you feel feverish?”

“I feel sick. Isn’t that enough?” He snapped.

“Stop being so grouchy.” She scolded. “Well, you feel sort of warm. Maybe it’s from this blanket?”

She tugged gently on the blanket, but he clung to it tightly. “No, without it, I’m too cold.”

“That would be the fever. Okay, so one bowl of soup and a couple of ibuprofen for the good-looking man in the front.”

“Ep, aren’t you concerned about getting sick too?” R asked her. “I mean we cracked the Marble Man for Christ’s sake. It’s only a matter of time before you fall prey to it.”

She scoffed. “I work with hundreds of kids, who on a daily basis pick their noses and play with my paintbrushes. I have an immune system of steel.”

“Well, thank you for taking care of us, Ep.” Courfeyrac told her. “If I wasn’t super happy with Musichetta, I would be totally into this whole Florence Nightingale thing. In fact, this gives me an idea to try with Chetta…”

“Jar.” Enjolras and Grantaire said together, followed by fits of coughing.

“I don’t get paid until next week, dummies.”

“Then, put an IOU in there.” Enjolras insisted. “You need to pay up for getting me sick.”

“That’s not fair. Grantaire’s the whole who got me sick.”

“Well, then he owes the jar, too.”

“Hey! I am a victim of some snot-filled child. I say, we hunt down that kid and deal with them accordingly.”

“You will not leave this couch.” Eponine ordered, returning with a bowl of soup for Enjolras. “Not until you feel better.”

“What are we watching anyway?” Enjolras asked.

“iCarly.” Courfeyrac answered.

“Why does their apartment have an upstairs and an elevator?”

“Enj, I beg you not to poke holes in this show.” Courfeyrac whined. “You ruined Friends for me, I will not let you take iCarly from me.”

“No one could afford that big of an apartment on a chef’s and barista’s wage.” Enjolras defended.

>>>

“Move over.” Eponine told Courfeyrac, followed by a fit of coughing.

“Um, that’s not the line.” R said, as they all adjusted their positions on the couch. Grantaire and Courfeyrac were on the ends of the couch, while Enjolras and Eponine were sandwiched in the middle.

“Screw you.” She spat at him. “Pass the Kleenex.”

“Take one. Pass it down.” Courfeyrac announced as the tissue box made its way to each member on the couch.

“I can’t believe we all got sick at the same time.” Eponine said, after blowing her nose loudly. “What are the chances?”

“I do not want anyone to ever make fun of me for being nervous around germs again.” Enjolras croaked, his voice was hoarse from coughing so much.

“What are we watching now?”

“Glee.” The boys all said together.

“God, this show sucks. Why are we watching this?”

“We lost the remote.” Grantaire explained.

They all sat and mindlessly watched the drama unfold about regionals or whatever the glee kids were worried about in the episode they were watching. The only sounds were the coughing or sneezing or sniffling.

“Where did the ibuprofen go?” Eponine asked finally.

“We ran out a while ago.” Courfeyrac told her. But still he reached down on the ground to give her a bottle. “But this is some really strong allergy medication I stole from my old job, so we’ve been taking this.”

Eponine looked closely at the bottle. “Am I crazy with fever or are the instructions not written in English?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s from Taiwan. My old company had just been hired for their ad campaign and I swiped a few bottles out of curiosity.”

She shrugged and poured four pills into her hand. When she tossed them into her mouth, Enjolras and Grantaire sat forward in alarm. “No!”

Eponine looked at them incredulously and swallowed. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“Eponine, go throw up right now.” R said in a low and demanding tone.

“What?”

“Guys, what are you freaking out about?” Courf asked them.

“She took four of those devil pills.” Enjolras told him, not taking his eyes off her.

“Oh, shit.”

“Will you guys just calm down?” Eponine held up her hands as she spoke. “What’s the big deal with these pills?”

“They’re super powerful, Ep.” Courfeyrac explained. “They only recommend taking half a pill.”

“Well, you didn’t tell me that. And the instructions aren’t in English, so how was I supposed to know? So what does this mean?”

“Well, you’re probably going to be in for a bad trip.” Enjolras said.

“Fuck it.” Grantaire swiped the bottle from her hand, poured four pills in his hand, and swallowed them. His roommates looked at him in shock and reacted accordingly.

“Dude.”

“What is wrong with you?”

“Why would you do that?”

“Ride or die, bitches!” R exclaimed holding a fist up in the air. “If Eponine is going to trip balls, then I’m going in with her.”

“You’re insane.” Enjolras rolled his eyes.

“No, I’m loyal. And she’s your girlfriend, dude. So if you care about her at all, you would join me.”

“Your logic, as usual, is flawed.”

Courfeyrac sat forward and held his hand toward R. “I’m loyal, too. And there’s no way I’m missing out on this adventure.” R handed him the bottle.

“Guys, this is ridiculous.” Eponine tried to calm them down. “Honestly, you’re probably freaking out about nothing.” Suddenly, her face fell. “Do you guys see that fairy, too?”

“This is madness.” Enjolras insisted. “Isn’t it enough that we already feel terrible?”

“Bubbles are floating out of my fingers.” Grantaire was staring intently at his hands, clearly not listening to Enjolras.

The blonde looked over at Courfeyrac, who was already holding the bottle towards him. “You might as well.” He told his blonde roommate. After a sigh and a brief coughing fit, Enjolras ripped the bottle from his hands.

>>>

“I think what I’m really afraid of is ending up all alone with no one to love or care for.” Courfeyrac upside down on the couch, with his feet way up in the air.

“Guys, I think I can hear music.” Eponine was standing, flailing her arms like she was at Woodstock. “The universe is so free.”

Grantaire and Enjolras laid down on their backs, the tops of their heads touching the other. “Dude, I can hear your thoughts.” Enjolras said.

“No way.” Grantaire gasped. “What am I thinking right now?”

After a brief pause, Enjolras replied, “Something about an otter?”

“Whoa.”

The sound of a phone ringing cut through the trips. “Are those angels?” Courfeyrac asked, arms reaching towards the ceiling.

“No, you idiot. It’s the Spice Girls.” Enjolras replied. “Ep, your phone is ringing.”

“My name is no longer Eponine.” She told him. “It’s Willow Bird.” But she still went to retrieve her phone sitting on the coffee table. “It’s Cosette.”

“Dude, her dad’s a cop.” Grantaire said, his eyes wide. “She’s onto us.”

“Hey, bestest friend!” Eponine greeted into her phone.

“Hey to you. What’s got you in such a good mood?” Her friend asked.

“Oh, I’m just dancing to some music. It’s all around me.”

“Great. So I have some pretty awesome news.”

“What is it?”

“Well, I’m outside your apartment right now. I wanted to tell you in person.”

Eponine covered her phone and whispered loudly. “She’s outside right now. What do I do?”

“Shit!” Grantaire sat up quickly. “I told you guys. They’re gonna lock us up. Everyone scatter.”

“R, calm down.” Enjolras hit his friend in the arm, while still laying flat on his back. “Just let her in, Ep. We’re all good here.”

“Okay,” She nodded and then brought the phone back up to her ear. “We’re all good here. I’ll come get you in just a second.”

“I can hear my blood pumping through my body.” Courfeyrac commented, feeling his arms.

“So, where is our front door?” Eponine’s eyes searched the room frantically.

“At the front of the room.” Enjolras told her, spreading his arms out wide. “I’m going to make a snow angel.”

“Where’s the front of the room?” Eponine spun, doing 90 degree turns. Until finally. “Oh, wait. It’s there.” She walked to the door and tried to open it. “Guys, it’s locked. Where are the keys?”

“We’re all locked when you think about it.” R said, joining his friend in making snow angels on the floor.

“That’s so true.” Enjolras nodded.

“You’re so smart, bro.” Courfeyrac finally turned so he laid on his belly. “I’m going for a dip in the ocean. I’ll catch you guys later.”

Eponine tried the handle again, but it was still locked. “Oh, no. We’re locked inside. I’ve had nightmares about this exact scenario before.”

“Chill out, Ep.” Courfeyrac told her. “Maybe if you asked the door nicely, it would let you out.”

Suddenly, a knock at the door made all of them jump.

“Oh, my god. You made the door angry!” Courfeyrac exclaimed.

“Don’t hurt us, door.” Grantaire clasped his hands together. “We’re sorry for slamming you all the time.”

“Eponine?” A voice from the other side called.

“It knows my name?” Eponine gasped.

“Has the door been alive this whole time?” Enjolras asked.

“Guys, I can hear you.” The door said. “Come on, let me in. It’s Cosette.”

“Oh, my god. Cosette?” Eponine put her head against the door. “Did the door eat you?”

“I’m outta here, man.” R said getting to his feet quickly. “I’m not going to jail for you people.”

The door opened just then, causing all the roommates to scream in terror. Cosette’s eyebrows folded together and she grabbed at her chest. “What is wrong with you guys? Why would you scream like that?”

Eponine hugged her friend desperately. “Oh, thank god. You saved us.”

“How did you do that?” Courfeyrac marveled.

“Do what? Open the door?” Cosette questioned as she tore herself from Eponine’s embrace. “It was unlocked. That and the weird guy who lives down the hall let me in the building. What is up with you guys? You’re acting really weird.”

Grantaire went up to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I want you to be honest with us, Crazy Eyes. Are you armed? Are you wired? Is the building being surrounded as we speak?”

She shrugged his hands off. Suddenly, she understood. “So are you guys high or drunk? Or both?”

“Look, we are just fine.” Enjolras said, approaching her. When she looked to him, he stopped dead in his tracks. “Jesus Christ, could your eyes be any bigger?”

“Okay, so clearly not sober.” Cosette looked her best friend in the eyes. “Eponine, are you okay?”

She waved a dismissive hand. “I’m just feeling a little under the weather.”

>>>

Cosette nursed them all back to sobriety. Amazingly, they all felt so much better after they had come down from their high. As strange as the pills made them feel, they sure were powerful at attacking the germs in their bodies.

They all sat on the couch staring at the floor, while Cosette stood with her arms crossed over her chest. “Are we all feeling normal now?”

“Other than feeling an overwhelming sense of shame, yeah.” Enjolras deadpanned.

“Did I lick your elbow at some point?” Courfeyrac asked him.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Great, everyone’s back to normal.” Cosette interrupted. “Now, can I tell my amazing news?”

“You had news?” Eponine asked.

The blonde woman rolled her eyes. “Yeah, that was reason why I came over, remember?”

“All I remember is the immense amount of paranoia that shot through my body.” Grantaire commented.

“Anyway,” Cosette went over to stand in front of Eponine. “Guess what happened to me last night?”

“You said no to drugs?”

“Very funny. But no. I got engaged!” She displayed her hand to show off her rather large ring on her finger, while smiling widely.

Eponine grabbed a hold of her friend’s hand and dropped her jaw. “You what?! Cosette!” She stood up and gave her friend a hug congratulatory hug. “That’s so wonderful. Congratulations!”

The boys each stood up and gave her their congratulations. “Who’s the lucky man?” Courfeyrac asked.

Something caused Cosette to hesitate. Eponine nodded slowly. “It’s Marius, isn’t it?”

She nodded. “Are you okay with that?”

Eponine scoffed and laughed. “Am I okay? Cosette, I’m more than okay. I’m so happy for you.”

Her friend sighed a sigh of relief. “Are you sure it’s not weird?”

“Weird? Okay, I’m over him. The point is, you’re getting married.”

“So it wouldn’t be too much to ask you to be my maid of honor?”

“I’m touched,” Grantaire joked. “But I don’t think I’m up for it.” Enjolras punched him in the gut.

“Of course, Cosette.” Eponine told her friend. “I would love to.”


	29. Contest

“In short, I would just like to thank all of you for being here today and sharing in mine and Cosette’s engagement.” Marius spoke into the microphone in one of his hands, holding a champagne glass in his other hand. For their engagement party, Marius apparently had some pull with some rich big wig, and they had rented out a vineyard for the event. Fairy lights lined the outdoor pavilion, intertwined in large perfectly manicured hedges with roses peppered in them. White tablecloths covered the standing tables filled the space in front of an older looking building. It was absolutely beautiful. And very, very posh.

Marius gestured his glass to his fiancée who stood off to his left. “And to my future bride, I look forward to spending everyday with you. And growing more and more in love with you with every moment that passes.”

Eponine watched the scene unfold with a smile pressed on her face. She had worked very hard to perfect that smile. Because internally, she was feeling quite a lot of things. All of this was reminding her of what made her fall for Marius in the first place. He was an incredibly affectionate and charismatic man. It was nearly impossible not to fall for him. But she was happy for Cosette. Ever since the two of them were little, Cosette had always talked about her dreams for her future wedding. She wanted a big white wedding, with a huge princess dress, basically what every little girl wanted. And it’s all that Cosette talked about when they were preteens. So, this was a good thing. It was a good thing.

“To love everlasting.” Marius raised his glass and Eponine was brought back to reality. Everyone raised their glasses and clapped as the couple kissed. Eponine downed her drink quickly.

“Ugh, this is so pretentious.” Grantaire fiddled with his tie yet again. Somehow, he was convinced enough to wear a suit and tie, and he was very much regretting this now. “Anyone else fighting the urge to chant ‘We are the 99%’ in these rich assholes’ faces?”

“Grantaire, try to contain yourself.” Enjolras scolded him. He also wore a suit and tie, but unlike Grantaire, felt comfortable in his outfit. “Do not embarrass me with your anti-rich rhetoric.”

“I, for one, feel right at home.” Courfeyrac said, waving his glass around. He chose to wear a tuxedo, much to everyone’s chagrin. “You know, I always felt like I was born into the wrong class.”

“Dude, I am really fighting the impulse to punch you in the dick right about now.” R warned him.

“Okay, listen up, dickwads.” Eponine said, snapping her fingers. “This is not about any of you. This is about Marius and Cosette. And tonight is not going to ruined by any of you behaving like assholes. So, Grantaire, you are going to be civil and not joke about wealth to anyone at this party.”

“More like white privilege.” He grumbled.

“Yeah, like that, for instance. That ends now.” She demanded, waving a finger in his face. “You are going to be anyone but yourself. Got it? And Courf, you are not going to be a douche and you are not going to act like you are ‘one of these people’. You’re a teacher, get over it.”

“Okay, but no one here knows that.” Courfeyrac tried to argue. “I could really move on up in the world with just a little bit of schmooze…”

“No. No schmooze, Courf. You put it away, lock it in a box, and don’t take it out until we get back home. Capeesh? And Enj…” She paused for a moment. “Actually, you’re fine. I don’t have to worry about you.”

“Boo,” Courfeyrac complained. “Just because he’s your boy toy, he doesn’t get a talking to?”

“Maybe because I know how to behave myself and not act like an ass.” Enjolras pointed out.

“You know what, scratch what I just said.” Eponine said. “Stay away from these two, or there is bound to be a fight.”

“Don’t need to be told twice.” He shrugged.

“Okay, I am going to go attack that fondue station and not act like myself if anyone needs me.” Grantaire announced.

“Oh, yeah. I’m going to take my non-douchiness to find more of those shrimp things that were close to godliness.” Courfeyrac set out, eyes searching the area for a waiter.

“Are you alright?” Enjolras asked Eponine when they were finally alone.

She shrugged. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“You just seem… a little off tonight.”

Eponine laughed it off. “I’m the maid of honor, remember? I have to be soak up all the stress of the evening, so the bride doesn’t have to.”

Enjolras regarded her closely, trying to see past the walls she was working so hard to put up. But he figured it wasn’t the right setting to go digging further. “Okay,” He finally said. “Do you need any help? Is there anything I can do?”

“Just help me make sure everyone is having a good time.” She told him, giving him a look to show how touched she was. “I need to go check on the you-know-what.” Eponine then glided toward the building and disappeared inside.

“I’m trying so hard to be good for Eponine,” Courfeyrac whined to Grantaire. They were now standing by the fondue station, eating more than their fair share. “But I feel stifled.”

“You are preaching to the choir, my friend,” Grantaire waved a skewer as he spoke. “This suit and tie has been cutting off all the oxygen to my brain. I think I can actually feel myself getting dumber.”

“What gives Eponine the right to order us around? And why do we listen to her?”

“Because she has crazy amount of anger, man. May I remind you of the time we tried to tell her that Zac Efron isn’t that good looking?”

Courfeyrac shuddered. “A dark day indeed. Man, this sucks.”

Grantaire nodded, but had an evil idea strike him. “What if we have a little lowkey fun of our own?”

His friend gave him an excited look. “I’m listening.”

“Okay, the only rule is don’t get caught. But we each dare each other to do little nonsense things to amuse ourselves. No punking out, deal?”

“I don’t get it.”

R rolled his eyes. “I’ll start you off then. You have to… get the business card of someone at this party.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’ll do the same. First man to get one… gets first dibs on the TV tomorrow.”

“Come on, that’s lame.” Courfeyrac tipped his head as he thought. “How about whoever gets the most business cards off these people is the winner. The loser has to pay for an HBO subscription.”

“Oh, it is on, dude.” The two of them high-fived.

Enjolras saw the high-five from a distance and his instincts told him that trouble was brewing somewhere. He moved to tail them, but ran into Marius. Literally. The two of them collided like they were doing a body slam. Thankfully, neither of them were holding a drink so no clothing was stained.

“Oh, gracious.” Marius gasped as they regained their footing. “Sorry, man.”

“I apologize.” Enjolras cleared his throat. He still wasn’t the biggest fan of Marius, but tried to be civil.

“Enjolras, right?” The young man asked after looking over the blonde carefully. “You’re Eponine’s roommate. I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced.” He held out his hand for him to shake.

Despite his better judgement, Enjolras shook the man’s hand, making sure to grip it firmly. “Yes, it is nice to finally put a face to the name. And congratulations are in order.”

Marius blushed, releasing his hand from Enjolras’ iron grip. “Thank you. But Eponine tells me that you’re also a lawyer. What law do you practice?”

“Corporate law, with a touch of employment. Mostly I deal with issues surrounding corruption and injustices in the workplace.”

“Wow, I salute you, sir.” He gave him a little salute as he spoke. “I’m in estate planning and all of the boring aspects of that job. But good for you, you are actually making a difference. I can see why Eponine enjoys your company.”

Enjolras’ eyebrows lifted ever so slightly. He was sensing a little bit of contest happening under his nose. “Well, she’s the one making the actual difference, being a teacher and all.”

“Oh, I agree. She really is… one great person that is not easily forgotten.”

“Well, neither is Cosette.”

Marius shook his head and chuckled slightly, bringing himself back to reality. “Yeah, she’s practically set my soul on fire.”

The blonde man had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. “Well, again I say, congratulations.”

“Marius!” Eponine came over to them, making sure to paint another smile. “I hope this one isn’t talking your ear off.” She joked, gesturing to Enjolras.

“I was just getting acquainted with him actually.” Marius said, slapping a hand on the man’s shoulder. Enjolras bit down on his tongue. “A stand-up guy if you ask me.”

“You’re also a stand-up guy, Marius.” She assured him.

“Well, at any rate, which one was your boyfriend again? Don’t tell me it’s the man in the tuxedo.”

Eponine scoffed. “No, you’re looking at him.”

Marius removed his hand from Enjolras’ shoulder and gave him a quick scan. “Really.” It was more of a statement than a question.

“Did you not know?” Enjolras questioned.

“Oh, no. I’m sorry, I hope I haven’t offended either of you. It’s just… well, I’m surprised is all.”

Enjolras crossed his arms. “Surprised?”

“Well, you just don’t seem… ah, never mind.” He tried to walk away, but Enjolras stepped forward.

“No, finish your sentence. Why are you surprised?” He challenged.

“Enj,” Eponine warned, seeing the fire rise in him.

“Forget I ever said anything. It’s nothing really,” Marius tried to say.

Enjolras did not waver. “I insist.”

“Okay, you’re just… not the kind of guy I thought Eponine would go for. But I am wrong. I admit it.”

“Enjolras, I need to introduce you to…” Eponine looked around her. “Anyone else.”

“I’m not the kind of guy she would go for?” Enjolras pressed on. “As opposed to you, who bailed on her mid-date?”

“Enjolras,” Eponine stepped on his foot. “Marius, I’m sorry. He’s just a little short on sleep.”

“No, he’s right.” Marius admitted, looking down at the floor.

“What?” The two of them said in unison.

“I never apologized to you, Eponine.” He grabbed a hold of her hand and looked into her eyes. Suddenly, Eponine felt frozen. “It was incredibly rude of me to have a conversation with another woman while on a date with you. I wish things could have been different. But I guess I saw her… and it felt like I was lost and she found me… But anyway, I regret the way things ended between us. And I fully apologize to you. Will you ever forgive me?”

Enjolras wanted to gag. How was this guy ever on Eponine’s radar? He looked to her, hoping that she was about to give him a classic Eponine verbal smackdown. But instead, he saw her smiling weakly at him. “Of course, Marius.” She said quietly. He also watched as Marius pulled her into a hug. She sunk into him, not unlike when Enjolras hugged her.

“If I could have everyone’s attention?” A voice in the microphone echoed over the pavilion. All eyes turned towards the building. One of Cosette’s model friends was holding the microphone and standing next to a rather large cake.

Towards the back of the pavilion, Courfeyrac leaned over to Grantaire and muttered, “Ten bucks says a girl is going to pop out that cake.”

“You’re on.”

“Could Cosette and her future husband come up here?” The model said. Marius excused himself and both he and Cosette eventually made their way to the cake. “So, for those of you who don’t know, I’m Candy, one of Cosette’s roommates.”

“Of course, her name is Candy.” Grantaire mumbled.

“And all of us bridesmaids chipped in and wanted to give these two a present to celebrate their upcoming nuptials. So, Cosette, Marius, you two can go ahead and take the first bite of the cake.”

Just then, a girl dressed in a pink leotard popped out the cake. Unseen by many, Grantaire begrudgingly slipped a grinning Courfeyrac a ten. Music started and more girls in pink leotards poured into a formation towards the front. They began to dance and sing the song, “All I Do Is Dream of You.” It was one of Cosette’s dream wedding items that Eponine had arranged. One of Cosette’s favorite movies growing up was Singin in the Rain, so she always said that she wanted that scene recreated at her engagement party. Cosette and Marius and the rest of the guests smiled and cheered on the dancing women dancing the Charleston in the middle of the pavilion.

“You still like him, don’t you?” Enjolras asked Eponine. He couldn’t have been more uninterested in the dancing girls in front of him.

“What?” She flashed him a look. “Enj, can you please just enjoy the dance?”

“So are we just going to ignore what just happened there?” He insisted. “Now I know why you are so off tonight. Because you still have feelings for Marius.”

Eponine leaned in close, looking over her shoulders. “Keep your voice down.” Luckily, the music was loud enough and the girls were pretty enough to be a sufficient cover for the conversation. “Can we talk about this later?”

“Whatever, Eponine.” Enjolras stormed away, making a beeline for the parking lot.

Grantaire saw him angrily walk off. “Oh, boy. Which one of us going to go deal with that?” He asked.

“With what?” Courfeyrac asked, clearly too focused on the dancing girls and nothing else.

R rolled his eyes. “Never mind.” He grabbed a couple of bottles of wine from a distracted waiter’s tray and walked over to his friend.

“You look like you need a drink.” R stated, when he finally reached the fuming blonde.

Enjolras, who was sitting on the curb, looked over his shoulder. “Go away, R.” He snapped, turning his back to him.

“Okay, so you need a strong drink.” Grantaire sat down next to him and offered a bottle to him. “Luckily, I grabbed a whole bottle of pretentious wine for the two of us.”

He hesitated for a moment. “Why do you always assume that everything can be solved with alcohol?”

R shrugged. “It hasn’t failed me yet.”

Finally, Enjolras swiped the bottle from his hand and took a swig. He swallowed and grimaced. “Ugh, that’s awful.”

“Listen, rich people think that the more expensive a wine is, the better they are. Taste takes the back seat with these people. Hence the fairy lights and general décor of the place.” He took a swig from his own bottle. They sat in silence for a bit. Then Grantaire chuckled. “You remember freshman year when we stole our RA’s wine coolers?”

Enjolras tried not to smile at the memory. “I don’t know why I let you talk me into that. They tasted just as bad, but at least the coolers had a sweetness to them.”

“We sat in the parking lot then too.” R looked out on the parking lot they sat in currently. “Remember what we talked about while we sipped those coolers?”

“We talked about the perfect woman.” This time, Enjolras allowed himself to smile. “I’m pretty sure you said your perfect woman was Ellen Page?”

“Juno was a very important film in my youth.” He shrugged. “And that was before I found out she was gay. Who was your perfect woman again?”

“Michelle Obama.” This caused both of them to laugh heartily.

“Yeah, I remember. I just wanted to hear you say it again.” R confessed, earning a friendly punch from Enjolras.

“Dammit, dude. How do you always know what to say to get me in a better mood?”

“Well, Exhibit A,” Grantaire presented his bottle of wine, as the two of them clinked their bottles together and took another swig. “And Exhibit B, that’s what being a best friend is all about.” He looked over at his friend with a half-smile.

“You are a good friend, Grantaire.” Enjolras said, resting a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You’ve helped me through a whole bunch of scenarios and have stuck with me, even when I’ve been… well, me. So thanks.”

Grantaire couldn’t hide his smile, even if he wanted to. He could feel his heart race just a little bit faster. “Well, you know,” He started to say, feeling his heart race more with every word. Oh, god. Was he really about to say this?

“There you are.” Eponine interrupted, walking over to them. “Are you done being a jerk now?” She asked Enjolras, placing her hands on her hips.

“And, that’s my cue.” Grantaire grunted as he stood up. “If you both excuse me, I have a contest to settle with our friend, Courfeyrac.” Even though, a part of his heart died, he slunk away to find Courfeyrac.

“Contest? Wait, R,” Enjolras stood to pursue him, but Eponine stopped him.

“Leave it, Enj.”

“Why? So I can sit here while you explain how much of a dick I was?”

“No,” She sighed, struggling to find her next words. Enjolras waited patiently, even though he was sure that he was about to be in for it. “So I can explain that you were a dick… by calling me out on my bullshit.”

“What?” There was no use in denying his shock.

“I didn’t realize it until tonight, but I guess… there is still some small part of me that has feelings for Marius. And when he was apologizing to me… it’s like I was brought back to that first night at the Musain when he bought me that drink. It just brought a lot of feelings back.”

Enjolras shoved his hands in his pockets. “So what does this mean? You want to call this off?”

Eponine shook her head. “No!” Then, she reached out and placed her hands on his shoulders. “Do you know what I was thinking while he was apologizing to me? I was thinking about how much better I have become since being with him. I mean think about it, when I first met Marius, I was still moping over Montparnasse. And in comparison, they’re like night and day. I went from one extreme to another. And now… I’m stable. You’ve helped ground me and get back to normalcy. I’m finally back to who I actually am. And I have you to thank for that.”

He listened to her words and couldn’t help but feel touched. “You did the same for me.” He told her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “So why not return the favor?”

Grantaire watched them lock lips from the archway leading into the pavilion. “I have to get over that one,” He commented to himself, after downing the rest of the bottle.

“Dude!” Courfeyrac ran up to him, holding a stack of business cards. “I have been schmoozing up a storm in there. How many you got?”

R sighed and patted his friend on the shoulder. “You win, bro.” He said, forcing a smile on his face and rejoining the festivities.


	30. Quality Dude Time

“Emergency meeting!” Eponine went around the apartment, banging on all of the doors. “Get your butts in the living room right now!”

“What’s going on?” Enjolras was the first to emerge. A look of alarm plastered on his face.

“Relax, Enj, it’s not a medical emergency.” Eponine assured him, gesturing to the couch. “R, Courf, out now!”

“Excuse me for thinking that the word ‘emergency’ elicits alarm and panic,” Enjolras mumbled.

“Where’s the fire?” Courfeyrac entered the room.

The other two saw him and groaned loudly. “What the hell are you wearing?” Enjolras demanded.

Courf looked down at his tank top and yoga pants. “What’s wrong?” He asked, holding out his hands.

“You look like you’re about to tell me that the feng shui in the room is off,” The blonde groaned.

“Yeah, dude,” Eponine chimed in. “The only thing missing from this outfit is a man bun.”

“Excuse me,” Courf defended himself. “But I happen to be a yogi in training. Only $500 more and I will be level 3 yogi master.”

Enjolras couldn’t believe his ears. “You’re paying money to do yoga?”

“Yeah, my teacher, Shaman Johnson, says I have great potential.”

“Pretty sure you’re being scammed, Courf…” Eponine said.

“I forbid you to give anymore money to this man,” Enjolras added.

Grantaire arrived at that moment, pausing when he saw Courf’s outfit. “Why is Courf wearing women’s yoga pants?”

“I’m not being scammed,” Courf told the other two before turning to R. “And these are not women’s yoga pants. They’re unisex. I asked the sales rep.”

“Well, they’re hugging your ass.” R commented. “What’s the big emergency?”

“Everyone sit on the couch.” She ordered. “I have sort of a big favor to ask.”

“Do you really think I’m being scammed?” Courf asked Enjolras as they took their place on the couch.

“I’m going to need to see a copy of your bank statements to be sure, but I highly doubt that yoga teachers have levels.”

“Guys,” Eponine snapped her fingers together. “Pay attention.”

“To be continued,” R pointed to the two guys on the couch before leaning back. “Please, Eponine. Tell us why you dragged us out here.”

“So you know that Marius and Cosette’s wedding is getting closer.” The three men moaned and nodded. It was all they had been hearing for the past two months. Cosette had booked her dream venue, an old cathedral church, despite the only openings they had available were either 5 years down the road or five months. Being the overly excited bride that she was, she chose the five months option. Now it was three months to the wedding and Eponine was in constant maid of honor mode, which was very annoying to the rest of the house. “Well, tomorrow happens to be the day that we are going wedding dress shopping,” Eponine continued. “And… I kind of need you guys to hang out with Marius today so he doesn’t see the dress.”

“No!” The boys all vehemently shook their head.

“That goody two shoes?” R complained. “I would rather take one of Courf’s yoga classes.”

“Yeah, Ep, he’s a dweeb,” Courf agreed. “He once spent an hour describing Cosette’s hair to me. Don’t get me wrong, I love talking about women, but there was no reference to her rocking rack, which I think is a crime against humanity.”

“Guys, come on,” Eponine placed her hands on her hips. “He doesn’t have other guy friends. Maybe he needs some quality dude time.”

“I need quality anyone time,” Grantaire said. “I haven’t had sex in 8 months and I’m getting kinda desperate.”

“I got you, bro,” Courf gave him a high-five.

“I, unfortunately, agree with these two buffoons,” Enjolras finally spoke up. “Marius is just so different from us. We have nothing in common.”

“You’re both lawyers,” Eponine offered.

“Pfft, I hardly call estate planning a law practice. All you do is help rich people feel richer, which they do not need any help in that department.”

“Solid burn, man,” R slapped him on the shoulder.

“Okay, what is it going to take to convince you to hang out with him?” Eponine asked.

“You think we can be bought?” Grantaire scoffed. “We are not easily swayed, Eponine. We are men of strong convictions.”

“I have at least 3 people I can set you up with.”

“Done.”

“Dude,” Enjolras interjected. “What happened to strong convictions?”

“I am in a dry spell, Enj. I do not want any judgement from you, a man who’s getting it regularly.”

“Well, unlike you, I am a man of conviction. And I am not easily influenced by sex.”

“No, you’re going to do it.” Eponine insisted. “Otherwise, you can forget about ‘getting it regularly’.”

Enjolras leaned forward and spoke quietly. “What about my vitamin E?”

Courfeyrac and Grantaire made gagging sounds, Courf going the extra mile by hitting him with a throw pillow.

“I will never eat another vitamin again!”

“Censorship is a thing, you know?”

“Oh, grow up!” Enjolras scolded. “And anyway, that’s fine. Because as I said, I’m not influenced by sex. So good luck, Eponine.”

“I give it twelve hours.” R said.

“I give it six.” Courf countered.

“You want to put some money down on this?”

“Yeah. How much?”

“$50.”

“Deal.”

“Courf, what about you?” Eponine said, tilting her head to the side as she thought. “What is it going to take to crack you?”

“Ha, a lot of things. But unfortunately for you, I’m happily in a relationship with Chetta, so sex is off the table. Unless we want a third…”

“Okay, I’ve tried to hold this off for as long as I could,” Enjolras reached behind them and held out the Douchebag Jar to him.

“I’ll buy you a porn subscription.” Eponine stated, as if she just came up with the most incredible idea ever.

“What?” Enjolras gasped.

Courfeyrac leaned forward slightly, indicating his interest. “Of my own choosing?”

She shrugged. “Within reason, of course.”

“Ep, think about what you’re offering.” Grantaire warned. “And who you are talking to.”

Courfeyrac stood and crossed his arms. “BigTitsAndAss.com or I walk.”

Eponine seemed to consider it for a moment. “Is that your choice?”

“Did I stutter?”

“Eponine, don’t.” Enjolras begged. “You don’t know what you’re agreeing to.”

“Deal.” Eponine held out her hand for him to shake, which he did as their other roommates moaned and groaned. “But I don’t pay for it until after tomorrow. Just to keep you honest.”

“Pleasure doing business with you,” He said.

>>>

Enjolras was washing dishes when Eponine walked past. She wore a tight pencil skirt with a matching blazer, a button up shirt was tucked underneath that has just one button above being too much. Her brown hair was tied in a messy bun and she wore glasses that he knew were 3D glasses she got from a movie with the lens popped out. She walked over to the cabinet where they kept the mail and absentmindedly rummaged through the pile, seemingly unaware of Enjolras’ gaze on her. He rolled his eyes. “Really?”

She looked up at him, being sure to bat her eyes. “What?”

“A sexy secretary look? That is so cliché.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She shrugged innocently. “I have a meeting with the school board later, so I wanted to look nice.”

“I told you, Eponine. I am not easily influenced by sex. Besides, if you wanted to impress me, maybe you shouldn’t have dressed like my Aunt Ruth.”

She looked down at her outfit. “Oh, you know what, you are right.” Eponine undid the rest of the buttons on her shirt, showing she was wearing a red-laced teddy underneath. “Is this better?” She asked.

He shut off the sink and turned to lean on the counter, arms crossed. “Nope,” Enjolras made sure to keep his eyes fixed on her face.

Eponine smiled at the challenge he presented her. But luckily, she came prepared. From the pile of mail, she withdrew a letter. “Then you won’t mind if I read this aloud to you.” She opened it and began to talk in a breathy voice. “To whom it may concern, this letter is to inform you that the trial of Patterson vs. Good Times Incorporated has been delayed.” She looked up to see a small crack in the Marble exterior, which encouraged her to keep going. “New evidence has been presented and the defense team requires time to review said evidence. The new court date will be announced upon the completion of review.” While she read, she slowly walked closer to him, while he remained still. When she finished reading, she was mere inches away from him.

“Nice try,” He offered weakly, with a tight smile. Internally, he cursed the part of him that was feeling excited from her little show.

Eponine flashed him a victorious smile. “You ready to give in yet?”

“Never.”

“Okay, but you might want to tell that tent in your pants.” She moved past him, making sure to brush her hair against him. Enjolras inhaled, as she jumped to sit on the counter, grabbing an apple from on top of the fridge. Making dead eye contact with him, she slowly bit into the apple.

>>>

“Come on in,” Enjolras stiffly greeted Marius at the door.

“Thanks again for inviting me.” Marius smiled as he entered, taking a look around. “Wow, so this is the famous apartment I have heard so much about.”

“All good I hope?” Courfeyrac asked, welcoming him with a bro hug. Unfortunately, Marius was not accustomed to receiving these sorts of hugs, so stumbled his way through it. Courfeyrac secretly rolled his eyes. “You ready for some quality dude time?”

“I suppose,” Marius bumbled.

“How about a little something to get the party started?” Grantaire held out a bottle of whiskey to him.

“No, thanks.” The groom-to-be politely declined. “Besides, I’m more of a wine enthusiast, anyway.”

Without a word, Grantaire bent down and moved a loose floorboard, revealing that hidden in the ground, were two bottles of wine. “Red or white?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Why are you hiding alcohol in the floorboards like a mob boss?”

“Hey, prohibition happened once, so it can happen again.” Grantaire defended.

“I’ll have red, thanks.” R reached down and handed Marius the bottle.

“Well, come in and take a load off.” Courfeyrac gestured them all to sit on the couch in the living room. Grantaire went into the kitchen and came back with wine glasses for each of them.

“A toast,” He held up his now full glass, as the rest of them mirrored his action. “To our new friend Marius, being tied to one person for the rest of eternity.”

“To Marius!” Courfeyrac and Enjolras clinked their glasses with each other and gulped down wine like ravenous animals.

“So what is the plan, then?” Marius asked.

Grantaire picked up the remote. “How about we check in on the game? You a football fan?”

Marius guffawed. “Yeah, right. Football and booze. All that’s missing is the strippers, right? Can you imagine?” His sarcastic tone caused all of them to exchange awkward glances. Suddenly, he realized his error. “Oh, but if that’s what you guys had planned, I’m more than okay with that.”

“No, it’s fine.” Courfeyrac tried to tell him, though his tone betrayed him. “If that’s not your thing, then we don’t have to.”

A small moment of silence passed before a knock on the door.

“Oh, thank god.” Grantaire said under his breath. “I’ll get it!” He went to open the door, almost hoping that it was the girls returning early. But instead he saw a familiar face. A tall man with ginger hair stood with his arms out to his side.

“You sons of bitches ready to partayyy?” He asked loudly.

“Combeferre!”


	31. Wine of Friendship

It had been at least a year since they had last hung out with Combeferre. He used to be the other roommate before Eponine moved in. But when his girlfriend at the time moved to New York, he moved with her.

“What the hell are you doing here, bro?” Grantaire greeted their former roommate with a wide smile. Usually with Combeferre, drinking and partying was going to be involved.

“I was just in the neighborhood and thought it’s been a hot minute since we’ve partied,” He explained, entering the apartment.

Everyone on the couch had stood up by then, Courfeyrac practically leapt over the couch when he realized who was at the door. “Combie!” The curly haired man attacked the ginger with an aggressive bro hug. “It’s good to see you, my dude.”

“You too, man.” Combeferre and Courfeyrac had been wingmen back in their day. They often helped each other get the attention of whatever female caught their eye through various antics and plays. For most of their college career, they had made many conquests. “I hope your stocked up on condoms, because it’s about rain pussy up in here!” The two men laughed and playfully hit each other.

Then, Combeferre looked over at Enjolras and Marius, who were still standing watching everything unfold. Marius was feeling confused and uncomfortable, like he was intruding on a private moment. Enjolras was stoic, hands in his pockets. “Hello, Combeferre,” He greeted.

The two of them hadn’t exactly parted on good terms. When Combeferre decided to move out, he didn’t give them any notice. The day they found out he was moving was the day he moved out. Enjolras, in particular, was not happy about that. “Enjolras, a pleasure as always,” Combeferre held out his hand towards the Marble Man, which he did not take. Trying to recover, he turned to Marius. “Are you the new roommate?”

“Um, no, actually,” Marius took the man’s hand. “I’m just a friend. Marius Pontmercy.”

“Just call me Combeferre,” The ginger man told him. “I used to live with these dickheads once upon a time.”

“Hey, how’s Marie?” R asked.

Combeferre scoffed. “Ah, turns out she’s a real bitch. Started bossing me around and got all naggy. So I kicked her ass to the curb!” He and Courf high-fived. Enjolras rolled his eyes. He always thought that Combeferre brought out the worst in his friends. “Well, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.” His green eyes fell on the wine glasses that sat on the coffee table. He laughed at the sight. “But if you ladies are done braiding each other’s hair, I say we hit the strip clubs!”

“Yeah!” Grantaire and Courfeyrac cheered.

“No,” Enjolras’ voice made them all stop. “We’re not going to a strip club. Are you serious?”

Combeferre rolled his eyes. “Oh, stop being a wet blanket, Enj. We have to celebrate my return somehow and what better ways than with strippers?”

“Yeah, Enj.” Courf spoke up. “Quit being a wet blanket.”

“I’m not being a wet blanket,” The blonde argued. “This is supposed to be Marius’ day, and Eponine would not…”

“Eponine?” Combeferre questioned.

Courfeyrac laughed. “Oh, you’ll never guess, Combe. The Marble Man is currently banging our other roommate, Eponine. And she has got him whipped as hell, dude.” It was Combeferre’s turn to laugh and point at their blonde friend.

“I am not whipped,” He tried to defend, but the others did not pay attention. He turned to their newest ‘friend’. “Marius, please help me out here.”

The man shrugged. “I’m good with doing whatever you guys want to do. But I don’t want to impose or anything.”

“Nonsense,” Combeferre ruffled his hair. “Any friend of my boys here is a friend of mine. Now let’s hit the strip!”

>>>

“I think I’m in love,” Grantaire stared open mouthed at the women dancing on the stage.

“Which one?” Marius asked him.

“Does it matter?”

By this time, Grantaire and Combeferre were sufficiently drunk. Courfeyrac, Enjolras, and Marius politely sipped at their drinks, but sat awkwardly. They all knew that their girlfriends would not approve of them being there. Not necessarily that they were at a strip club, but the fact that they were at a strip club at 2 in the afternoon on a Thursday. The club was almost completely empty except for the dancers, one bouncer, the bartender, and a couple of skeezy looking old dudes. It was an uncomfortable place to be. That is unless you were Combeferre and Grantaire.

“You guys need to get on our level!” Combeferre told the three mostly sober men. “Where’s your guys’ sense of fun?”

“I am having fun,” Courf insisted. “Believe me, this is my favorite place in the whole world. It’s just…”

“Let me give you the down low,” Grantaire leaned on the table they sat and pointed to each of the men respectively. “Blondie, as stated before, is whipped as hell by the other roommate. Newbie is getting hitched in a couple of months. And Courf has already landed himself a dame.”

“No way! Courf in a monogamous relationship? Pure science fiction.” The ginger haired man laughed at his seemingly hilarious joke.

“Hey, she’s great!” Courfeyrac defended. “She’s the girl of my dreams and I am not going to screw it up. No matter how delectable Chastity over there looks in lace…” His green eyes fell on the woman who was spinning upside down on a pole.

“There he is!” R cheered. “In all of his douche and glory.”

“But you’re getting married, dude?” Combeferre asked Marius.

Marius smiled at the memory of his fiancé. “Yes, I am.”

Combeferre blew a raspberry towards him. “Boo! Being tied to one woman for the rest of your life? While she gets old and fat and complains how you never do anything for her? R.I.P., my friend.”

Enjolras couldn’t stay silent any longer. “Combeferre, stop being a dick. Just because you and Marie are over doesn’t mean that we have to put up with your judgmental tone.”

“If I recall, Enjolras, you once told me that a woman is a man’s downfall.” Combeferre countered. “That a man should never allow himself to fall under a woman’s spell because then, and I quote, ‘he will have given up his own freedom’.”

“That was a very long time ago.”

“Boy, you are whipped. I don’t even know who you are anymore.” Combeferre stood up then. “I’m getting us another round, because you need to let loose.”

Once the man was far enough away, Enjolras gestured for the group to lean closer. “We need an exit strategy and quick.”

Grantaire shook his curls. “Not me. This is my new home!” He turned and rested his chin on the edge of the stage, staring at the dancer above him like she was a holy angel.

“Forget him,” Enjolras waved his hand towards him. “Marius, how about you fake a stomach bug or something?”

“Why do we have to, though?” Courfeyrac shrugged. “I mean, what our women don’t know won’t hurt ‘em, right?”

“Eponine is going to be pissed,” Enjolras said. “And I think Cosette wouldn’t approve of this either.”

“So we don’t tell them. Duh,” Courf replied. “Look, Chetta is amazing, but she’s also a very open-minded person. I don’t think she would be that upset.”

Just then, Enjolras’ phone that was sitting on the table in between them lit up. Eponine was calling him.

“Witch,” Courfeyrac gasped.

“What do I do?” Enjolras asked, a look of panic cracking the marble exterior.

“Don’t answer it,” Grantaire had turned around at that point and had his own look of panic on his face. “She’ll hear the music.”

“Well, I can’t ignore it or she’ll know something is wrong.”

“Take it outside,” Marius suggested.

“Okay,” The blonde grabbed his phone and practically bolted for the door. “Hello?” He answered at the last minute, huffing.

“Hey, I was beginning to worry,” Eponine’s voice on the other side seemed cautious. “Why are you breathing so heavy?”

“Oh, we’re just… watching the game.” He lied. “We were just screaming so loud, that’s why I didn’t hear the phone.”

“Okay…” She seemed to buy it. “I was just calling to check in and see how things are going.”

“Great, Marius is having fun. I think.” The poor guy seemed to be very uncomfortable with their current surroundings, but there was little Enjolras could do about that.

“You sure? I know you guys weren’t exactly happy about me forcing this one you.”

“Well… we’re making the most of it.” The first thing he had said that was the truth. “But what about you? How’s the hunt for the perfect wedding dress?”

“Oh, lord,” Eponine groaned into the phone. “I love Cosette, I do. More than anything. But she is _so_ picky! I think this is the fourth bridal store we’ve been to and she’s currently trying on dress number 43.”

A knock on the glass doors tore Enjolras’ focus to them. Combeferre stood there, holding up a shot glass. Enjolras held up a finger, signaling that he would be there in a minute. “Well, that sounds… interesting.” He replied distractedly.

“That’s putting it mildly. I can’t really say much longer we’re going to be.”

“Oh, that’s fine. We’ll just be doing some guy stuff, you know.”

“How is the game by the way? Who’s winning?”

Damn, he had to think fast. “Uh, the home team…” He replied vaguely, holding his breath.

“Shit,” came Eponine’s response. “Well, I hope they start losing soon. I might have made a bet with Courfeyrac.”

“A terrible decision.”

“I know. Well, I’ll keep you updated on how things are going on our end. See you soon?”

“Yeah, bye, Ep.” He ended the call, and finally allowed himself to breath normally. So far, it seemed like they were in the clear. He hoped that it would stay that way. But one thing was for sure, they needed to get out of that strip club and soon.

Enjolras went back in the club to rejoin his friends to find Combeferre sitting in his chair, leaning on Marius’ shoulder, sobbing. Marius looked up at the blonde man, giving him a look that said ‘save me’. From the looks of the many empty shot glasses, it was easy enough to deduce that Combeferre had taken the round all to himself. Meanwhile, Courf and Grantaire looked on the scene awestruck. “Um, what’s going on, Combe?” Enjorlas asked slowly.

“I didn’t dump Marie,” The ginger haired man whined. “She dumped me. Said she wasn’t ‘feeling’ it.” He continued to sob into Marius like they had been lifelong friends. Marius awkwardly patted the man’s head, unsure of what else to do.

“I didn’t know, man. I’m sorry,” Courfeyrac said solemnly.

“Yeah, dude. That sucks,” R added. “I know how much you liked her.”

“She was the reason why I left.” Combeferre sobbed. “I uprooted my entire life for her. And she boots me out like I was nothing.”

“I’m sorry, Combeferre.” Enjolras rested a hand on the man’s shoulder.

“No, I’m sorry, Enj. You were right, I was being a dick. And I didn’t give you enough notice that I was moving and… I’m just sorry, man.”

Secretly, he was happy that this happened. Because now, they had an excuse to leave. “Why don’t we go back to the apartment and watch the game?” He suggested.

“No,” Courfeyrac stood up.

“Dude, I’m crying in a strip club,” Combeferre said. “I want to go while I still have some dignity.”

“We aren’t going anywhere until we have successfully cheered you up. And there is only one way that I know never fails.” He turned to the bartender. “Excuse me, how much for a lap dance?”

“I don’t want a lap dance,” The ginger sat up and wiped his tears away, while Marius sighed out relief. “Women suck.”

“No, they don’t.” Courf said patiently. “Women are the most perfect creatures on earth. Just because one turned out to be less than perfect doesn’t mean she represents the rest of the female race. Now, shut up and let me buy you a lap dance.”

>>>

“So are you going to explain yourself?” Eponine crossed her arms and stared at the five men sitting on the couch, staring at the floor. Cosette stood next to her friend, but only glared at her fiancé. Enjolras, Marius, Courfeyrac, Grantaire, and Combeferre remained silent, secretly willing the other’s to be the first to open their mouth.

Until Combeferre spoke first. “My girlfriend kicked me out. And the guys here were just…”

“Just what? Making asses of themselves?” Eponine snapped.

“Excuse me, but…” Combeferre started to say, but felt Grantaire’s elbow connect hard with his side.

“Dude, trust me, shut up.” R warned him, still not looking at Eponine.

“Enjolras,” Eponine demanded. “You care to tell me why I had to bail you guys out of jail at 3 in the afternoon, drunk of your guys’ ass?”

“I feel like you might have answered your own question.” He muttered.

“Marius, I can’t believe you,” Cosette finally said, venom dripping from her words. “You getting into a fight at all is surprising enough, but fighting a cop?”

“In his defense,” Courfeyrac spoke up. “We didn’t know he was a cop. I mean, the dude was at a strip club in the middle of the afternoon.”

“So were you,” Eponine retorted. “That doesn’t give you the right to start picking fights.”

“He was asking for it.” Grantaire said. “The man was shouting all sorts of homophobic and problematic things. It had to be dealt with.”

Eponine pinched the bridge of her nose. “I will never understand men. So who was the one that threw a chair at him?”

Combeferre slowly raised his hand. “That would be me. But Enjolras smashed a bottle over his head.”

“Grantaire kicked him in the nuts!” Enjolras pointed.

“Excuse me, but after he decked Courfeyrac in the throat, I had to intervene.”

“Boys!” Eponine’s voice cut through their petty bickering. “You realize that he could have pressed charges? Or the strip club for that matter?”

“I can’t keep using my dad’s position to cover your asses.” Cosette interjected. “Next time, I won’t.”

“I’m sorry, my love,” Marius dared to look up with pleading eyes.

“Don’t you start.” The model spat. Her fiancé hung his head in shame.

“Well, what do you want us to say?” Combeferre challenged. “We already said we’re sorry.”

Eponine and Cosette looked at each other, having a silent conversation with just their eyes.

>>>

“Again!” Eponine yelled. She and Cosette, along with the rest of Cosette’s bridal party, sat on the couch, cheering and shouting.

“Come on, Eponine,” Courfeyrac whined, as he stuck his head around the corner. “How many times do we have to do this?”

“Until we’re satisfied.” Cosette told him. “Now, you heard the lady. Do it again.”

Eponine pressed play on her phone and the boys grudgingly reentered the living room. All of them wore white from head to toe. As their punishment, they were to sing Backstreet Boys’ mega hit song, “I Want It That Way”. The ladies cheered and swayed along to the song as the boys all cracked their way through the melodies.


	32. The Board Meeting

“Are you really going to make me say it?” Combeferre tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling.

“Well, yeah, ‘cause no one knows what you’re talking about,” Grantaire said. The roommates were all sitting at the dinner table, eating the latest of R’s culinary genius. Combeferre had just come over to them and now stood with his hands on his hips.

“Okay, I’m tired of crashing on the couch.” He explained as if it was really obvious. “Are you guys going to let me move back in or not?”

Everyone all exchanged looks. “You want to move back in?” Eponine asked finally.

“I mean, I’m a little homeless now that Marie’s kicked me out.”

“Of course, you can, man!” Courfeyrac piped up. The two of them high-fived excitedly. “Get ready, ladies of the world, because the boys are back!”

“Okay, but are we forgetting something?” Enjolras interjected. “We don’t have room for you, dude.”

“Well, why don’t you two just bunk together?” Combeferre gestured to Enjolras and Eponine. The couple looked at each other and stammered. Ever since the conversation they had had a while ago, they hadn’t really discussed the issue of living together. “Seriously?” The ginger man asked, seeing their awkwardness.

“Have you really not even considered it?” R questioned.

“I’m not exactly sure why this concerns any of you.” Enjolras tried to say.

“Because I want my room back. Duh,” Combeferre shook his head. “Why are you guys acting so weird about it?”

“This doesn’t concern you,” The blonde insisted.

Eponine reached out and rested a hand on Enjolras’ hand. “Enj, remember when you said you weren’t scared about moving in together? Well, I never responded to that, but I’m not scared if you are.”

“Great, so it’s settled,” Combeferre cheered. “I’ll expect you out by the end of the week.”

“Wait, so I’m getting kicked out of my room?” Eponine protested.

“Well, that was my old room, so first come, first serve?”

“Except I am currently living there, so…”

“Well, why wouldn’t you want to move into my room?” Enjolras interjected.

Eponine shrugged. “I mean, it’s not that I don’t want to move into yours, but I just don’t appreciate how Combeferre assumed that I was moving into your room.”

“As someone who has shared a room with him before,” Grantaire spoke up. “I would like to offer my two cents to the situation. Enj, you’re great and all, but you are super anal about the stupidest shit.”

“I don’t think it’s considered anal if I have a system of organization.”

“Dude, you realize no one organizes their socks by use?”

“Okay, things are starting to get off track.” Combeferre announced.

“I say we hold a board meeting,” Courfeyrac suggested. This was met by groans from the men in the room.

Eponine looked around with a confused look on her face. “What’s a board meeting?”

Courfeyrac sat up straight, clearly excited someone asked. “It is a civil discussion amongst friends that is a way for everyone’s position on a particular issue to be heard and discussed.”

“He took one conflict resolution seminar,” Grantaire rolled his eyes. “And loves to flaunt it at any moment he can squeeze it in.”

“Well, that sounds like a great idea, Courf,” Eponine said.

“Yeah, it always sounds like a great idea,” Enjolras stated. “But then the execution always ends up in a fight. The last board meeting we held was about the kind of cable we wanted and it ended up with someone’s fist through the wall.”

“I was not about to settle for basic cable,” Combeferre defended.

“Well, lucky for all of you, I’m a teacher and deal with conflict resolution all the time,” Eponine smiled. “So I second the motion of a board meeting.”

Courfeyrac jumped up and punched the air. “Okay, everyone, put on your finest suits and meet back here in an hour.”

“Wait, why do we have to wear suits?” Eponine questioned.

“Because apparently, Courf learned that conflict is better solved when you feel confident in yourself,” Enjorlas muttered. “And to his mind, that translates to wearing fancy clothes.”

“Courf, you realize that’s ridiculous, right?” Eponine called after the man as he went to the kitchen sink to deal with his plate.

“Why do you think presidential debates are so successful, Ep?”

>>>

“Okay, I am calling this board meeting to order.” Courf stood up tall and adjusted his tie. He wore a tan colored suit, which he paired with a white button up and a plain black tie. “I am the moderator for this meeting, but in an interesting turn of events we also have a co-moderator, Miss Thernadier.” He gestured to her, to which she stood up from the couch and stood next to him.

“Thank you, Courf,” She said, adjusting her high waisted black pants and white button up shirt. She didn’t necessarily have a suit, but these were the next best things she had. And of course, she wore a rainbow-colored belt for a splash of color.

“Ah,” He cut her off and held up a finger. “At meetings, there needs to be a level of formality. You must address each member here by their full last name after Mister or Miss.”

“Really?”

“You wanted this, Ep.” Grantaire tugged at the tie Courfeyrac had forced on him. There had been a fight about Grantaire wearing a suit or not. He wore a plaid button up and jeans, but Courf had insisted on a tie.

“Miss Thernardier,” Courfeyrac corrected.

“I’m going to punch you in the dick after this is over, bro.”

“Okay, the rules are simple.” Eponine cut them off. “No talking unless you hold the special talking stick.” She reached down and held up a gaudy and bedazzled rain stick. “If you want a chance to speak, you must politely raise your hand and wait for the stick to be passed to you. If you speak out of turn, then you will be placed in the corner for two minutes. Then you may rejoin us.”

“How did you guys allow this woman to live here?” Combeferre questioned the guys sitting on the couch. Since he was going through a brief home transition, he didn’t have a suit ready, so Courf had also forced a tie on him over his band shirt and jeans.

“That is a warning, Mr. Combeferre,” Eponine raised an eyebrow at him. “There will not be another.” Grantaire rolled his eyes and raised his hand. Eponine smiled. “Yes, Mr. Grantaire,” She passed the rain stick to him.

The man stood once the stick was in his hand. “I would like to voice my extreme displeasure for this whole thing, and I would much rather spend this time drinking myself to oblivion.”

Eponine forcefully took the stick out of his hand and gestured to the corner. Meanwhile, Enjolras and Combeferre tried not to let their snickers be heard. “Go and don’t come back until you are ready to be a team player.” She ordered, while R flashed her finger guns. She then turned to address the others. “Now, this is serious, guys. The issue at hand is Mr. Combeferre and where he is going to move into.”

Combeferre flashed her a confused look and gestured for the stick to be passed to him. “Excuse me, the issue is not me, okay? The issue is that you two,” He pointed to Enjolras and Eponine. “Are dragging us into your relationship drama.”

“Burn!” Grantaire called from the corner.

“No talking in the corner!” Eponine snapped.

Enjolras ripped the rain stick out of Combeferre’s hand. “While I agree with… _Mr._ Grantaire about the ridiculousness of this whole thing… really, Ep, a rain stick?” She threw her arms out and shrugged. “But this is not a relationship thing. We haven’t really officially talked about letting Combe- Mr. Combeferre live here.”

Courfeyrac stepped forward, grabbing the stick. “Why wouldn’t we let him move back in? Don’t you remember all the good times we had with this broni?”

Enjolras gripped the stick back. “Oh, you mean when he caused us to spend a night in jail? Twice?”

It was now Combeferre’s turn. “Now, let’s stay on topic. Can we put it to a vote?”

“Excellent idea,” Courfeyrac beamed. “All those in favor of having Mr. Combeferre move back in?” Grantaire and Courfeyrac raised their hands immediately. Eponine slowly raised her hand, while Enjolras took the stick back.

“Look, I’m not entirely opposed to having him move in, okay? But it does create a rather difficult situation as far as where he is going to live.”

Now, Eponine stepped forward. “It’s not a difficult situation Enj- Mr. Enjolras. We just need to agree on who is moving in with who.”

“But shouldn’t this be a private conversation then?” Enjolras asked.

“Too late now,” Courfeyrac gestured to the two of them. “Can both of you stand up please and face each other?” After Enjolras rolled his eyes, he stood, facing Eponine. “Okay, now there is a conflict happening between you two.” Courfeyrac explained. “I am going to take a seat next to Mr. Combeferre, but just because I am sitting doesn’t mean that we are not an active part in this discussion. Just think of us as your silent cheerleaders, minus the pom-poms and tube tops.” Enjolras shot him a look, but Courfeyrac waved the rain stick around. “Ah-ah, I have the talking stick. So the two of you need to resolve this conflict. A reminder to refrain from using sarcasm or insults when having this discussion.” Enjolras went to grab the stick, but Courfeyrac kept it at arm’s length. “Miss Thernadier, why don’t you start? Please voice your concerns about the topic in question.”

Eponine snatched the rain stick. “Okay, well, first, jar,” She looked directly at Courfeyrac, which earned an approving nod from everyone in the room. “And second, Mr. Enjolras, my concerns are about who is living with who. Now, I think you should move into my room because I have the bigger room and you have no idea how hard it is to move an antique art chest.”

She then passed the stick to Enjolras. “Okay, but I have a certain system and flow to my stuff, and I don’t think it’s going to mesh well with your collection of ribbons.”

“My collection of ribbons cannot be the reason why you do not want to move in with me.”

“It’s not that, Eponine- Miss Thernadier. Side note, really weird to refer to your girlfriend in that way.” He shot Courfeyrac another look. “I do want to move in together. I meant that way back when I said it and I mean it now. But I guess I just always pictured you moving in with me.”

“Well, why is that? Why is up to me to move in with you?”

Unseen by the rest of the gang, Grantaire came up and swiped the rain stick from the two of them. “Okay, I’m ready to be a team player if it means that this can end quicker. May I propose another vote?”

Enjolras took the stick back. “You were banished to the corner.”

Eponine then seized it. “Great idea, Mr. Grantaire. All those who would like Mr. Enjolras to move in with me?”

Grantaire and Eponine raised their hand. At that point, Combeferre stood. “Okay, I want my room back. And that room is now Miss Thernadier’s. So I am in favor of Mr. Enjolras staying right where he is.”

Courfeyrac stood up, feeling weird that he was the only one sitting. “Mr. Combeferre, you didn’t use the talking stick.”

“Ah, screw the damn stick, Courf,” Eponine snapped, feeling the fight rise within her like a shaken soda bottle. “This is no longer a civil conversation. This is war.”

“Courf, you’re the tie breaker.” Grantaire said. “Who do you think should move in with who?”

Courfeyrac’s eyes widened as the rest of the group’s eyes fell to him. He was brought back to his parent’s divorce and panic filled him like a glass of water. When the panic filled him all the way up to his head, he felt his feet move. Courf ran into his room and closed his door behind him.

“Okay, well that surprised no one.” Enjolras uttered.

Grantaire was then struck with inspiration. “Hang on. I think I know how to end this feud once in for all.”

>>>

“Bunk Bed Bros!” Grantaire and Combeferre cheered and then chest bumped. They were all standing in Grantaire’s doorway for, what R advertised as, “the christening”.

“This was a genius idea, man.” Combeferre told him. “It’s just like we’re back in the dorms.”

“I’m just glad that we’re all one big happy family again.” Courfeyrac spoke up, happy to be out from his hiding spot in his closet.

“Hey,” Eponine nudged Enjolras. They both were standing just outside the door as the boys did a round of rock, paper, scissors to see who was going to get the top bunk. “Do you think it was weird that we were having a hard time deciding who would live with who?”

Enjolras sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets, leaning on the door frame. “I guess we weren’t as ready to move in together as we thought.”

“So, we shouldn’t read too much into it?”

“May I remind you that we’ve been together for three months? How many couples do you know of that were ready for moving in together three months in?”

Eponine smirked. “Well, when you put it like that.” They both chuckled slightly. “So we’re good then?”

The blonde then placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. “We’re great.”


	33. No More Words

“A toast to the happy couple!” Eponine raised her glass high and everyone followed suit, cheering. It was the night before the big wedding. Marius and Cosette were hanging out at the apartment. Cosette was going to stay the night with Eponine, that way they could get ready and eat breakfast in their own

time before heading to the church.

“May the two of you enjoy your endless monogamy!” Grantaire joked, earning a swift kick in the shin by Enjolras.

“It still doesn’t seem real yet,” Cosette commented, after sipping her wine. “To think, this time tomorrow, we’re going to be married!” She squealed and leaned on her fiancé’s shoulder.

“I know, babe,” Marius blushed. “I can hardly wait.”

“Boo,” Combeferre rolled his eyes. “Stop being so lovey-dovey. We get it. You’re in love. No need to rub it in.”

Eponine smacked him upside the head. “Don’t be bitter, Combe. You’re lucky we were able to get you an invite to the wedding at all.”

“And you know, you could find a rebound at the wedding,” Courfeyrac suggested.

“I do have models for friends.” Cosette added.

Combeferre paused for a brief moment, then raised his glass again. “To the happy couple!”

Courfeyrac giggled and slapped Marius on the back. “Thanks again for letting me bring a plus one. Musichetta is going to be wearing a dress that she refuses to let me see beforehand and I cannot wait to…”

“Don’t finish the rest of that sentence.” Enjolras scolded.

“Well, shouldn’t we be heading to bed, then?” Eponine looked at Cosette. “You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

She sighed. “I suppose, but can I just give him one kiss goodnight?” Her big blue eyes pleaded her friend.

“I’ll allow it.”

Marius and Cosette then shared a very passionate kiss. Enjolras cleared his throat awkwardly and started to gather up the glasses.

Then Grantaire said, “Jesus Christ, we said ‘kiss’ not swallow each other.”

“Yeah, you ain’t going off to war,” Combeferre added.

Marius and Cosette broke apart, both gasping for breath. “I’ll see you tomorrow, love,” Marius told her, cupping her cheek.

Eponine gripped her friend’s hand and yanked her away. “Come on, Juliet. Say goodnight.”

“Goodnight, baby!” Cosette called.

“Goodnight, sweetheart!” Grantaire yelled after her. Combeferre and Courfeyrac jokingly joined in, calling her random pet names.

“Well, how does it feel?” Enjolras asked Marius, when the girls had finally disappeared into Eponine’s room. “Are you nervous for the big day?”

“I suppose…” He seemed to be distracted by something.

“All I’m saying is, I better get laid at this wedding,” Grantaire chimed in. “You and me, Combeferre, we gotta look out for each other.”

“What about me?” Courfeyrac whined. “I can be your guys’ wingman.”

“Dude, you already got a girlfriend,” Combeferre told him. “You can’t be a wingman.”

“Just ‘cause I’m with Chetta, doesn’t mean I can’t put on my signature charm and wing the hell out of you.”

The three of them started to discuss amongst themselves, while Enjolras decided to try and see what was distracting Marius. “Hey, you sure you’re alright?”

Marius gave him a weak smile. “Oh, yeah. I’m fine.” His tone betrayed him.

“It’s not unusual to get cold feet, you know.”

“It’s not that.” Marius insisted. “Believe me, Cosette is the one for me. My world would be black if she were not there.”

It was then that Enjolras was reminded of why he was annoyed by Marius. But still, he pressed on. “Marius, something’s wrong. You’re not that hard to read.”

The young man seemed to pause for a moment. Enjolras waited patiently, rinsing off the glasses in the sink. Then, Marius turned to him and kept his voice low. “Can I tell you something in confidence?”

Enjolras shut off the faucet to try and hear him better. “I guess.” He replied, still not a hundred percent on his team.

“You know how Cosette and I decided to write our own vows?”

“Yeah?” A weird feeling started to hang in the air.

“Well, I don’t have mine written yet.”

“You what?” Courfeyrac gasped. The two men looked and saw the three others were now listening in to the conversation.

Marius gestured for them to keep their voices down. “Not so loud. Do you want the girls to hear you?”

“Dude, your wedding is in less than 24 hours away,” Grantaire said.

“You don’t think I realize that?” Marius cradled his head in his hands. “I’m freaking out right now.”

“You don’t have anything written down?” Enjolras was in shock. Sure, he got flack from the others form how much of a planner he was, but even Grantaire didn’t slack off this much.

“Every time I’ve sat down to write it out, I can’t seem to find the words. I mean, what do you tell the most perfect woman in the world? How am I supposed to tell her exactly how I feel when there are no words to describe it?”

“Well, maybe start with that?” Courfeyrac suggested.

“I think I’m starting freak out for you,” Combeferre put a hand on his chest for added measure.

“Not helping, Combe,” Enjolras reprimanded.

“Well, we can help you,” Grantaire offered.

“Oh, would you?” Marius looked at the rest of them with as much hope in his eyes as he could gather. “I would really appreciate it, guys. I’ve never procrastinated this bad before.”

“Well, what a fun and low-stakes time to try new things,” Enjolras muttered.

“I’ll get a pen and paper,” Courfeyrac announced and went to find the items in his room.

“I’ll get the coffee brewed.” Combeferre said.

“I’ll get the booze,” Grantaire moved to the fridge.

“R, really?” Enjolras placed his hands on his hips. “Do you really think this is the time for alcohol?”

“I do some of my best thinking while drunk.” He defended. “I don’t judge you when you wear your special glasses when you’re working hard.”

“They’re prescription lenses. I’m nearsighted and you know it.”

“Well, they make you look like Benjamin Franklin.”

>>>

“Can people really die from happiness?” Cosette giggled, as the two girls collapsed on Eponine’s bed.

“You are such a girl,” Eponine couldn’t help but smile. “Now, I have everything we might need right here in this box.” She grabbed the small box decorated with ribbons and bows and placed it on the bed between them. “If you are feeling nervous, I have some anxiety medication that I stole from the school nurse. If you are feeling sad, I have a wide collection of funny animal pictures and a bottle of some sort of alcohol I took from one of Grantaire’s hidden stashes. If you are having second thoughts and want to split, I have my friend, Ricky, on speed dial. He’s a pilot and is willing to fly us anywhere in the United States. And if you’re feeling nostalgic and/or petty, I have our high school yearbook and sharpies, so we can either reminisce or draw mustaches on everyone we hated in high school.”

“Jesus, Ep. You really went all out.” Cosette commented with wide eyes.

“Hey, when you ask Eponine Thernadier to be your maid of honor, you get the deluxe package, my friend. Oh, and in case we get hungry, I also have a large box of chocolates hidden in my closet.”

“Why is it hidden in your closet?”

“Because living with these guys is like living with the pickpockets from _Oliver!_ I will not even mention how many times I’ve had my collection of glitter ransacked.”

“Ha, ha!” Cosette laughed. “Well, I’m good right now, thanks.”

“Really? No worries or regrets?”

“No.” The blonde shrugged and leaned against the headboard. “I’m just so content with everything. Like if the world ended tomorrow, I wouldn’t worry one bit. Because I have amazing friends and a wonderful, wonderful man to spend the remainder of my life with.”

Eponine placed the box on the floor next to the bed. “Must be nice. I don’t think I’ve ever been that happy.”

“Well, what about you and Enjolras? You guys seem happy together.”

“Yeah, we are. But I don’t think we’re as mushy as you and Marius.”

Cosette rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t mean anything. You guys are different. Just because you’re not hanging on each other doesn’t mean that you don’t care for each other like me and Marius. Tell me, do you miss him right now?”

Eponine scoffed. “Cosette, he’s in the other room.”

“I know, hon. But do you wish he was here right now?”

“No, because he wouldn’t know how to add to the conversation and just sit awkwardly off to the side.”

“Oh, my god. You are such an ass. Eponine, listen to me. When you are not with him, just in general, do you wish you were with him? When something exciting happens, is he the first person you want to tell? When you picture your future, is he there by your side?”

“Okay, now you’re freaking me out. I think I’ll crack open that bottle now.” Eponine joked and reached down to grab it.

“Oh, stop it. I know how much you care about him.” Cosette assured her.

“If I say yes, can we change the subject?”

“Perhaps.”

“Then, yes. Do you want some of this? Apparently, it’s rum.”

Cosette shook her head. “I don’t want to be hungover tomorrow. Can you believe this is our life now?”

“I definitely didn’t see any of this coming even a year ago. Literally. We were completely different people a year ago.”

“Can people really fall in love so fast?”

“Apparently.” Eponine sipped at the rum, careful not to go too hard. “Okay, I have some facial masks and a selection of romantic comedies on my laptop. Let’s get this night started.”

>>>

“You have burst like the music of angels. No, light of the sun.”

“I swear to god, Marius, you need to put that pretentious poetry away.” Enjolras, who was a few drinks in, finally let loose his distaste.

“Yeah, man.” Grantaire agreed, waving his sixth bottle of beer around sloppily. “You are no Shakespeare.”

Marius took a sip from his third bottle. “Well, you guys are offering no suggestions.”

“Read what we have so far, Combe,” Courfeyrac gestured to him.

Combeferre straightened out the paper and held it up. He squared his shoulders dramatically like he was about to deliver a dramatic monologue. “Dearest Cosette, it is difficult to put into words exactly how I feel about you.” There was a slight pause as they waited for more. But Combeferre looked back to his friends and said, “That’s it.”

All of the men groaned. They had been working at these vows for what seemed like hours now. “It’s hopeless.” Marius leaned back on the couch and rubbed his forehead. “I’m going to be standing in front of the woman I love, as well as everyone in that church, and look like a damn fool.”

“Okay, I’ve said it once before and I will suggest it again,” Courfeyrac stood. “What if you sang it?”

“No!” The rest of the room shot him down.

“We want him to not look like a fool, Courf,” R pushed him.

“Okay, how about…” Enjolras pointed to Combeferre. “’To say that I love you doesn’t seem enough’?”

Combeferre and the rest of the guys slowly turned and took turns giving him surprised faces. “That’s perfect.” Marius gasped.

“Dude?” Combeferre asked.

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “I guess it’s a good thing Eponine forced me to watch all those cheesy romantic comedies. You’re welcome.”

“Okay, but I think we’re out of tampons.” Courf joked. “You might need to wad up some toilet paper.”

R threw a pillow at his head. “Hey, you got any better ideas, dickhead? Combe, write it down before we forget it.”

“And then add,” Marius was now filled with inspiration. “’The English language does not sufficiently describe how much I love you.’”

“Hang on,” Combeferre waved his hand. “I can’t write that fast.”

“Now, we are cooking with gas, gentlemen,” R raised his bottle.

“How about ‘you’ve got a rockin rack’?” Courfeyrac giggled at his own joke. At the same time, several pillows were flung in his direction.

>>>

It was later that night when Eponine slipped out of her bedroom. Cosette had fallen asleep watching Sleepless in Seattle, and Eponine thought it would be a good time to grab some snacks. Unlike her friend, she was going to be in for a sleepless night. Sure, her best friend was getting married tomorrow. But that also meant that they were growing up and things were changing. Eponine was not one to like change very much.

After tiptoeing a few steps into the living room, she gasped at the sight before her. Marius and Enjolras were asleep on the couch, Marius clutching a bottle of beer like it was a teddy bear. Combeferre was also asleep but laid on the coffee table on top of piece of paper, much like a student who fell asleep in class. Grantaire and Courfeyrac were spooning on the ground, Grantaire being the little spoon. Beer bottles were strewn all over the place. Eponine went over to Grantaire and Courfeyrac and kicked their feet. They both jolted awake.

“Five more minutes, mom,” Courf groaned, not opening his eyes.

“Get up, right now.” Eponine said through gritted teeth.

Grantaire opened his eyes and realized that he was being cuddled. Once he looked who it was, he pushed Courf’s face away and quickly sat up. “Oh, dear lord. I really need to get laid soon.” He grumbled.

“Screw you, man. You liked it.” Courfeyrac complained, now awake.

“What is Marius still doing here?” Eponine lowered herself down to the ground, her brown eyes aflame with fury. “And why does it look like a frat party happened?”

“We were helping him… oof!” Courfeyrac was cut off by Grantaire’s fist connecting with his stomach.

“He was feeling nervous, and we thought a round of beer might help him.” R lied.

Eponine rolled her eyes and walked over to Marius. At this point, Combeferre stirred, lifting his head. The piece of paper stuck to the side of his face. “Who died?”

“Marius?” She poked his face gently.

He snorted awake and looked around. “Where am I?”

“The apartment.” She stated unamused. “It’s 2 in the morning, Marius. Go home.”

Marius’ eyebrows knitted together, realizing he had a minor headache. “Oh, god. You’re right. I’m sorry,” He groaned as he pushed himself up. As he did, his foot accidently kicked Enjolras in the face. He looked over at the Marble Man, waiting for him to awake. But the blonde just readjusted his head and continued to sleep. “Is he alright?” Marius asked concerned.

“Don’t worry about him,” Eponine pushed him onto his feet. “You need to be at the church ready to go in 8 hours. Go home, drink water, and get some sleep.”

Marius allowed her to push him but made sure to rip the paper off of Combeferre’s face. When he did, Combeferre in a sleepy daze looked around. “Happy birthday!”

“Shut up.” Eponine hissed. “Don’t you dare wake up Cosette. You hear me.”

“There’s a drool spot on my arm,” Courfeyrac said while examining his sleeve.

“You’re the one who spooned me, bro,” R told him.

“Good night, Marius,” Eponine told him, as she shut the door behind him.

“I don’t think he was good enough to drive, Ep,” Combeferre said.

“He can call a cab.” She shrugged off. “You guys are really ridiculous. Why is it that every time I turn around you guys are in a drunken stupor?”

“We were trying to be helpful, Ep.” Grantaire had finally gotten to his feet, and swayed a bit. “I already told you that.”

“Yeah, we practically saved the wedding,” Courfeyrac held up his arms to Grantaire like a child, who begrudgingly helped him up.

Eponine rubbed her temples. “Whatever, just go to bed. I’ll save my lecture for daylight.”

“What about Sleeping Beauty?” Combeferre gestured to the still sleeping man on the couch.

“I’ll get him. Just go.” The boys disappeared into their respective rooms, while Eponine sat down next to her sleeping boyfriend. She gently tapped his shoulder. “Enj?” He stirred slightly, but did not wake. Sometimes, his sleeping habits were annoying. “Enjolras, up and at ‘em.”

She shook him harder, but he only stirred enough to say, “Enough.”

“Okay, help me out here, dude. You and I both know that your back is not going to like spending the rest of the night on this couch. Come on, help me out.” She threw his arm around her shoulders and pulled him up. Despite her small stature, Eponine was quite strong. Whether or not he was conscious, she was going to get him to his bedroom.

Enjolras only woke up enough to help her get him to his feet. “I’m sorry, Ep.” His speech was slurred, unsure if it was from sleep or beer.

“Let’s just get you in bed.” She pulled him towards the bedroom, as he leaned on her for support. With some struggles, as Enjolras was going in and out of consciousness, they were able to stumble him into his bedroom. She threw him on his bed, and he fell with a snort. “Sweet dream, Enjolras.” Eponine told him as she pulled the covers over him.

“Thanks, love you,” He rolled over onto his side and allowed sleep to overtake him.

Eponine stood, staring at him wide-eyed. There was no way she heard him correctly. He didn’t say that.

Did he?


	34. Wedding Chorale (Part 1)

“Leaving in 10 minutes!” Eponine shouted into the apartment. “You will be in the car at that time, dressed or not.”

“Hey,” Cosette approached her friend, the glow of her wedding day emanating from her like the sun. Her blonde hair was pulled into a bun with white flowers in it. “I have an itch on the back of my head. Do you have a pick or something I can use?”

“Courf has a collection of hair combs in the bathroom. There’s one that has a really long point that should do the trick.”

Cosette skipped down the hall into the bathroom. Grantaire then exited his room, bowing to her as she passed. “Milady, you look like an angel,” He complimented, as she beamed.

“Grantaire, please tell me you aren’t stashing a flask on your person.” Eponine stomped toward him and rifled through his rented suit.

“Don’t worry, Eponine,” Combeferre assured her from inside their room. He was looking in the mirror as he finished tying his tie. “He’s clean. I already checked.”

“Good, because I am not going to tolerate any more drunken antics from you,” She pointed a threatening finger in R’s face, who held up his hands in surrender.

“Will you relax?” He assured her. “The only focus I have for today is getting laid.”

“Ditto!” Combeferre added.

“As long as it doesn’t interfere or ruin any of the festivities, I don’t care what you do. Oh, and there is an open bar, but you are only allowed to have no more than three drinks.”

“What?” R whined, crossing his arms. “That’s barely enough to get a baby drunk. That’s completely unfair.”

Eponine dropped her voice low. “After the antics of last night, you are lucky I allow you that much.”

“Ep? Have you seen my dress shoes?” Courfeyrac’s voice shouted from the other end of the hall.

“They’re under the couch,” She called over her shoulder, then turned back to the drunk. “Don’t make me assign Enjolras to be your babysitter, because I will.” She gave R one more warning look she made her way down the hall towards the living room to slip on her shoes.

Normally, Eponine was horrifically against wearing pink dresses. But Cosette was insistent that her bridesmaids wear pink, since that is the “color of love”, so she swallowed her disapproval. It was a floor length one-shoulder dress, covered in lace to match Cosette’s lace wedding dress. She was going to do her make-up and hair at the church, so she felt like she was not completely ready. Plus, the long list of to-dos for the day kept running through her head on a loop. Even though the day had barely begun, she wished the day was over.

“You look beautiful,” Enjolras’ voice forced her back to reality.

She looked over at him, seeing his perfectly tailored suit and neatly coiffed hair. For a moment, she smiled at him, welcoming the compliment. Then, she was reminded of his sleepy admission of love, and felt more panic fill her. “Okay, I know you’re trying to be sweet, but I can’t deal with that right now.” Eponine finally said.

“Eponine, everything is going to be fine.” The blonde moved towards her. “You need to calm down.” He opened his arms to try and hug her, but she wiggled herself out of his way.

“Enj, I can’t calm down, okay? I just need to get us to the church and get this ball on the roll.” She didn’t have time to think about her feelings for him or his feelings for her. Cosette. She was the only person that she was concerned about at this time. “Guys, are you almost ready?”

Musichetta and Courfeyrac walked up at that point. Chetta was wearing a short strapless red dress, with a sweetheart neckline. It was cut rather low, so her breasts were on display for the world to see. Courf smiled wider than Cosette. “We’re ready to go!” He announced. “Doesn’t my date look dynamite?”

Eponine and Enjolras struggled to find the right words. Enjolras desperately tried to avert his eyes from Musichetta’s chest.

Cosette came over, eyes falling on Chetta’s dress. “Damn, girl,” She commented with a smile. “I don’t think they’re going to allow a dress like that in a church.”

Musichetta laughed. “I would like to see them try and throw me out. But… you don’t think it’s too much, do you?”

“No!” Courfeyrac and Enjolras said at the same time. Eponine stared daggers at her boyfriend as Combeferre and Grantaire finally approached.

“Alright, Operation Bang Train is under way.” Grantaire exclaimed excitedly.

Combeferre grimaced. “What happened to The Laid Brigade?”

“No, we agreed…”

“Okay, wonderful.” Eponine cut them off. “Enjolras, you drive the guys over, while the girls are with me.”

“Um, I did not sign off on having Enjolras drive.” Combeferre argued.

“Yeah, we want to get there on time,” Grantaire chimed in.

Enjolras knit his eyebrows together. “What are you talking about?”

“You drive like an old lady, dude.” Courfeyrac told him. “You know that driving under the speed limit is generally something only elderly people do?”

“Excuse me,” Eponine snapped her fingers. “I am not playing games today. I said, Enjolras is driving you there, and so it shall be. From this point forward, I am the Wedding Czar and you all follow my directions to the letter. Cosette is going to have a beautiful wedding, you got that?”

The gentlemen all nodded and muttered their agreement to the terms. After a moment, Cosette said, “Can I please go get married now?”

>>>

“I owe you guys a lot.” Marius told the guys as they hung out in one of the many rooms in the church. Even though the guys had not been apart of Marius’ groomsmen, which consisted of a couple of Cosette’s friends and some snobby lawyer guys, they were still allowed to hang out with the bridal party. Eponine said it was going to help them not to get bored and cause problems. But they were under strict orders not to consume any alcohol until after the ceremony. “I don’t know how I am ever going to repay you.”

“Well, there is one thing you could do,” Grantaire leaned forward in his chair and rested his elbows on his knees. “See, Combe and I are in desperate need of getting laid. You think you can help point us in the right direction?”

“Are you serious?” Enjolras rolled his eyes disapprovingly.

“Absolutely,” Marius smiled. “You helped save the wedding. The least I can do is help set you guys up. What exactly are you looking for?”

“Someone who is willing to put out.” Combeferre said bluntly.

“Oh, and I don’t know if you know this or not, but I’m bi, so the options are limitless for me. Also, we have very little standards.” Grantaire explained.

The groom lifted his eyebrows as he got the idea. “Oh, well in that case,” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “One of my groomsmen might be an option.”

R looked over the man’s shoulder. “Which one we talking about?”

“I can’t believe this,” Enjolras groaned.

Combeferre turned to face him and Courfeyrac. “Hey, some of us don’t have unlimited access to women, okay? Now, butt out.” He then turned towards Grantaire and Marius, who continued to discuss possible conquests.

“Speaking of which, does Eponine seem… wound a little tight to you?” Enjolras questioned.

“Oh, you mean the Wedding Czar?” Courfeyrac snickered. “No, she seems alright to me.”

Enjolras grunted. He might not have a real good handle on relationships yet, but he could tell something was off about her. And it didn’t have anything to do with the wedding. Last night, she seemed normal, but then this morning, she seemed… stand-offish to him. “Well, do you think I should try and talk to her?”

Courf laughed. “Yeah, good luck with that. Honestly, you’d probably have better luck taming a wild horse.”

“Okay, point taken.” The blonde sighed. “It’s got to be the wedding that’s got her all riled up.”

“Yeah, she’s the maid of honor. My sister was the maid of honor in her best friend’s wedding and she had to be put on some hardcore anxiety medication. Actually, I’m pretty sure it was horse tranquilizers.”

“Well, maybe I should give Eponine some of that.”

“Can you believe us?” Courfeyrac slapped a hand on his shoulder. “All tied down and what not. Who would have thought we would be the ones in relationships?”

“Well, you were definitely a surprise.” The blonde joked. “But you seem really happy. Musichetta is great for you.”

“Yeah…” He stared off and smiled at an unseen picture.

At that point, the door opened, causing all eyes to turn towards it. A middle-aged man towered in the doorway, his curly salt and pepper hair was thinning but was somehow styled neatly. He wore a police uniform, that resembled a military uniform, as he carried a hat at his side. The man scanned the room until they fell on Marius, who rose his feet quickly.

“Mr. Valjean,” The young man reached out his hand towards him, after rubbing his hands on his pants legs. “It is good to see you again, sir.” His voice quivered slightly.

The old man shook his head curtly and gave him a tiny smirk. “Marius,” He greeted, his voice was low and powerful. “Are you feeling nervous at all?”

“No more than normal, I expect,” Marius told him with a nervous giggle.

“Well, I was told to collect you for the wedding photographer.” Mr. Valjean said. “They want to get the groomsmen out of the way, while we wait for the girls to finish getting ready.”

“Of course, thank you,” The groom and the groomsmen filed out. Meanwhile, Mr. Valjean’s gaze now fell on Enjolras. “Pardon me, son. You don’t happen to be related to Richard Enjolras?”

The blonde rose and held out his hand. “I’m Richard Enjolras, Jr., sir.”

Mr. Valjean regarded the man with a smile. Then he shook his hand. “Then I am guessing I know your father, then. A terrific naval officer, I must say. I can see his strong sense of conviction in you.”

Enjolras forced a cordial smile. Being compared to his father was not something he approved of. “Thank you, sir.”

“I am Police Commissioner, Jean Valjean,” The man finally introduced himself. “Father of the bride.”

“You’re Cosette’s dad?” Grantaire found himself asking, before he could stop himself.

“I’m guessing you know her?” The man questioned looking at all of them.

“We’re Eponine’s roommates.” Enjolras explained.

The old man nodded. “Ah, so you are the men I have to keep calling in favors for?”

“That’s us!” Courfeyrac said with a smile.

“We’re very sorry…” Enjolras tried to say.

But Mr. Valjean waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it. I was once young and wild, myself. Believe it or not, I had a few run-ins with the law when I was a young lad.”

Before any of them could question him, a very busty brunette in a skin-tight dress knocked on the door. “Hey, I’m sorry.” She smiled a million-watt smile. “I’m a little lost. Do you guys know where the bridesmaids are getting ready?”

Combeferre and Grantaire stared at her like she was the last cookie in a jar. The police commissioner pointed down the hall and said, “They’re in the rooms down the hall. I will point you in the right direction.” Before leaving, Mr. Valjean nodded to the boys in the room. “Nice to meet you gentlemen.”

They all watched as the brunette and Cosette’s dad disappeared down the hall. A beat of silence passed before Combeferre rushed onto his feet and pushed Grantaire’s face back. “Dibs!” He then bolted out of the room.

After recovering from the push, Grantaire got to his feet quickly. “Hey, you can’t do that!” And then he ran after the ginger-haired man.

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Can you believe that those two are tax-paying adults? I better go make sure they don’t cause trouble.”

“Wait,” Courfeyrac gripped his friend’s arm, and gave him an excited look. “I feel like I’m going to burst if I don’t tell someone. But I promised I would keep it under wraps. If I tell you something, you promise not to tell anyone else?”

Enjolras groaned. “Courf, I’m not going to help you cheat on Musichetta…”

“No, no, no. I’m a changed man now. My days of douching out are over.”

“I will believe that when I see it.”

“Can I just tell you? This morning, Chetta told me… well, she’s pregnant.”

The Marble Man stared at him completely dumbfounded. “What?”

“Yeah, dude. I’m gonna be a daddy,” He whispered excitedly.

“You are not allowed to call yourself that at any time.” Enjolras winced. “Are you serious?”

Courfeyrac nodded. “She showed me the test and everything.”

“Oh, my god. Oh, my god.” Enjolras could barely believe his ears. And of course, the thought of Courfeyrac raising any young child was enough to send a cold chill up his spine. “What are you guys going to do?”

“Well, she’s going to keep it, with or without me. But you know, as scary as it all seems, I’m actually thinking about sticking around. I mean, as you know, my parents divorced when I was young, and having to split my life between two parents sucked. I want to try and give that little tyke a better life than what I had.”

Enjolras’ head was reeling. Hearing those words coming from Courfeyrac, him making smart and responsible decisions, this was not something he was used to dealing with. Words dumped out of his mouth like they were falling out. “But you don’t even live with each other yet. Where are you going to live? Are you even ready to live with each other? And take care of a baby of all things? Do you know how much of a responsibility that is?”

“Dude, take a breath,” Courf placed his hands on his friend’s shoulders. “You’re freaking out a little.”

“Of course, I’m freaking out!”

“Shh!” He poked his head out the door to make sure no one was around before turning to face his roommate again. “Chetta didn’t want me to tell anyone today, because she didn’t want to take away from Marius or Cosette. I am trusting you to help me keep this secret.”

“I can’t believe you’re being so calm about this. This is huge, Courfeyrac.”

“I know.” He smiled to himself. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

“Wonderful?” Enjolras rubbed his temples. “What about finances? What about schools? What about birthing plans? Hell, what about all the medical expenses?”

“We’ll figure all that stuff out later.” Courfeyrac waved a dismissive hand.

This only seemed to rile Enjolras up more. He had to constantly remind himself not to shout. “Later? You are half responsible for giving life. You can’t just shoot from the hip on something as big as this. I mean, tell me you’ve actually given this some thought?”

The curly-haired man shoved his hands in his pockets and sighed. “You know as well as I do, man. I’ve been a carefree bachelor for a long time. And don’t get me wrong I’ve had some really… really great times. But… I was never kidding when I said that Chetta is the girl of my dreams. She is everything that I could ever ask for and more. She’s like a fever dream. Yeah, having a kid definitely wasn’t in the game plan. We’re probably not really ready for something this big, but she wants to do it and I do, too. I don’t know if we’re crazy or not but… I love her, Enj.”

There was so much sincerity in his words, and it seemed to calm Enjolras down a bit. This was a side that was not frequently seen. In fact, he wasn’t sure if he ever saw Courfeyrac so sincere and serious. It was oddly… touching. “Wow,” The blonde finally said after a pause. “I’m… I’m still going to be freaking out about this for a while, but… if this is what you guys really want, then I’m happy for you, man.”

Enjolras and Courfeyrac shared a meaningful bro-hug then. A rare but tender moment between friends.

Then the blonde said, “But seriously, I’m still freaking out. Can we please sit down sometime soon and hash out a plan? I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep otherwise.”

>>>

Eponine tried to focus on doing her hair, but Enjolras’ words kept echoing in her head like a song stuck in her head. Did he really mean to say those words to her? Could he really be in love with her after only a couple months of dating? With Montparnasse, Eponine had said the “L” word a year into the relationship.

“Spill,” Cosette had thrown a hairbrush at her friend, catching her off guard. Eponine then realized that she had been absentmindedly staring for a time. Cosette was having her make up done by one of her model friends, Candy, next to her. “Something’s on your mind and it’s not the wedding.”

Eponine tried to laugh it off. “Just worried about the boys screwing up.” She placed another bobby pin in her hair, pulling a strand of her brown hair behind her ear.

“Nope, try again.” Cosette flashed her a knowing look in the mirror they shared.

“Do we really need to talk about this? It’s supposed to be your day.”

“Exactly. The bride gets what she wants on her wedding day, and right now, I want to know why you’ve been acting weird all morning.”

Eponine sighed, annoyed that her best friend knew her so well. “It’s probably nothing,” She started. “But last night, when you went to bed, the boys had fallen asleep in the living room and I helped Enjolras into bed. And… I’m pretty sure he told me he loved me.”

Cosette’s already big blue eyes widened. The other girls gasped at turned their focus on her.

“Oh, my god. Congratulations!” One of the models, Katrina, squealed.

“You’re so lucky,” Ashley, the other bridesmaid, told her.

“What did _you_ say?” Cosette asked, grabbing her friend’s wrist.

“Nothing. He mumbled it in his sleep, so he could have just been dreaming, right?”

“Enjolras? Dreaming that he loves someone?” The bride’s perfectly plucked eyebrows arched skeptically.

“Okay, fine,” Eponine rolled her eyes and placed her elbows on the vanity in front of them. “But we haven’t been dating that long, so isn’t it too early to be saying things like that?”

Ashley spoke again. “I once told a guy I loved him on a first date. But he was also a Hemsworth so…”

“Not helping, Ash,” Cosette called over her shoulder. “Do you love him, Ep?”

“I don’t know!” She threw her hands out wide in front of her, finally letting the pent-up anxiety she’d been shoving down. “I don’t know, honestly. He’s a great guy and I really care about him.”

“Which one is her boyfriend again?” Ashley asked the room.

“The hot blonde guy who was yelling at that one dude that was weirdly staring at us.” Katrina explained.

Ashley turned and gave Eponine an incredulous look. “Mr. Hot and Bothered? Hon, _I_ was ready to say that I loved him the moment I laid eyes on that killer jawline.”

“Ash,” Cosette warned her again.

At that moment, Eponine’s phone went off indicating she had a text message. “Okay, ladies, the photographer is wrapping up with the boys now. Finish up your faces and hair, so we can get ours out of the way.”

All the girls nodded and went back to whatever cosmetic they were working with before.

“We’re not done talking about this.” Cosette told her.

The door flew open, making all the girls jump and gasp. When they turned to look at the door, they saw Combeferre holding open the door, while Grantaire was offering his arm to a woman. “See? I can be more of a gentleman than that guy,” Combeferre told her desperately, as he pointed to Grantaire.

“Michelle, thank god!” Candy greeted the brunette. Michelle was their neighbor, who also happened to be a professional make-up artist. She had agreed to help out with the wedding preparations

“Sorry, I’m late.” The woman said, breezing past the two men. “Got a little lost and… distracted.”

“Combeferre, Grantaire,” Eponine jabbed a finger down the hallway. “Get out now. I don’t want you out of Enjolras’ sight.”

“Fine, we’ll go back to the babysitter.” R’s stare remained on Michelle. “But I will be saving a seat for you, dear Michelle.”

“No, I will!” Combeferre said childishly.

“Boys!” Eponine shouted.

“Alright.” Grantaire grabbed his friend by the collar of his shirt and dragged him down the hall.

“Found some friends, I see,” Cosette commented to Michelle.

Michelle smiled smugly. “Mere toys.”

“Believe me, you could do better.” Eponine told her.

“Well, their blonde friend was really hot. I think I love him.”

Eponine groaned and rested her forehead on the vanity counter, while Cosette snapped at Michelle to stop talking.


	35. Wedding Chorale (Part 2)

“You are being so selfish right now.” Combeferre whined to Grantaire. “Marius said he would set you up with that one groomsman. Why are you trying to steal my girl?”

“She’s not your girl.” Grantaire protested. “And you saw that guy, he’s a 9, so he’s way out of my league. So Michelle is my only option.”

“Okay, impromptu roommate intervention.” Enjolras stamped his foot twice on the ground. They were all gathered in the coat room, minus Eponine, only thirty minutes until the wedding was scheduled to start. Enjolras had shoved them all in the small room, after he caught Grantaire and Combeferre arm wrestling in the foyer. Courfeyrac had been following Enjolras around like a puppy dog, discussing all things baby. What they were going to name it, what he hoped the baby would grow up to be, anything. Needless to say, Enjolras had reached his boiling point. “Combeferre, Grantaire, you need to stop behaving like children and stop fighting over a woman. Let’s be honest, Michelle is out of both of your leagues. You’re both just horny, so learn how to conduct yourselves in a civil manner.”

Grantaire held up a hand to his chest. “Excuse me, but I am currently in a…”

“Dry spell.” The rest of the men finished for him.

“We know, dude.” Courfeyrac said, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“There is no excuse for your behavior.” Enjolras scolded. “This is not medieval times where you have to joust for the lady’s hand.”

“That’s not a bad idea.” Combeferre nodded and stared off into the distance.

“No, Marble Man is right.” Grantaire told him. “Michelle is a modern woman. So she gets to make her own choice.”

“Exactly.” Courf chimed in. “Women are allowed to make their own choices when it comes to relationships, love, family…”

“Off topic, Courf.” Enjolras warned. “The point is, I am not going to play babysitter anymore. The ceremony is going to start soon and we do not need to give Eponine any more of a reason to freak out.”

“Why are you so concerned about Eponine?” Combeferre asked. “She’s practically every other word that comes out of your mouth.”

“She’s my girlfriend,” Enjolras gave him a quizzical look. “That’s sort of the deal.”

“Nu-uh. You did not do this with Amelie.”

Grantaire shivered at the mention of the name. “That’s because Amelie practically gave him a script every day.”

“Again, off topic.” Enjolras waved his hands wildly. “You three are going to be the death of me today.”

“What did Courf do? He’s actually been the most normal of us all day.” Combeferre defended his friend.

R heard his friend’s words and then flashed his friend a cynical look. “Yeah, that’s weird. Why is that?”

Courfeyrac shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess someone has to be the sane one to balance out the crazy.”

“The word ‘sane’ is not in your vocabulary,” Grantaire squinted. “What are you hiding?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Enjolras pinched the bridge of his nose. “Can we just agree to be normal? At least for the duration of the ceremony?”

Combeferre and Grantaire exchanged glances. “Fine.” They mumbled.

“Okay, just for added measure, none of us are going to be sitting next to each other.” Enjolras ordered.

“Why?” Courf whined. “Why not put me on co-babysitter detail?”

Grantaire looked horrified. “Since when did you actively volunteer to be responsible? What’s with you, man?”

“No one is sitting near anyone.” The Marble Man repeated. “That way, no one can feed off each other. And no one gets to sit next to Michelle.”

Combeferre scoffed and stomped his foot. “Come on.”

“Do we all agree to the terms I have set?” Enjolras asked the room. Grantaire and Combeferre nodded and mumbled. Courfeyrac slowly nodded his agreement after Enjolras shot daggers at him from his crystal blue eyes. After getting a positive sign from them, the blonde let out a sigh of relief. “Great, now fan out.” He gestured to the door.

As they all filled into the hallway, they all discovered that the wedding party were getting ready to walk down the aisle. The four bridesmaids stood next to a groomsman, all making last minute adjustments to their dresses or suits or bouquets.

Eponine poked her head out of line to look at the four gentlemen exiting the coat room. “What are you guys doing? The wedding’s about to start.”

Cosette appeared just behind her, Mr. Valjean adjusting his uniform behind her. “Should we be concerned that you were all in a small closet together?”

Enjolras shoved the three men towards the door and gave them one last warning look. He then turned to go to Eponine. “Don’t worry. I was just reading them the riot act.” He assured her. “We shouldn’t have to be worried about them at least for the ceremony. But I can’t guarantee the reception is going to be safe.”

Eponine smiled. “I would expect nothing less.”

It was then that Enjolras noticed her completed bridesmaids’ attire. Normally, she hated wearing pink, but here she was wearing a floor length blush pink dress, which popped against her olive colored skin. Her brown hair was done in a side bun with a couple of small white flowers woven in the tendrils. Her make-up was perfectly done. She looked absolutely beautiful. “You look…” Enjolras tried to say, but was having trouble remembering what words were.

She blushed but shrugged it off. “Michelle is a wonder with a make-up brush.”

“You’re right, Enj.” Cosette piped up. “She does look amazing.”

“Thanks, Cosette. I think I can handle this.” Eponine told her, gently pushing her friend back. She turned back to face the blonde man. “Thank you for helping me today. I’m sorry I’ve been so weird.”

Enjolras offered a smile. “As long as you keep looking like that, I don’t care how you act.” Eponine laughed for the first time all day, and felt a weight being lifted off her shoulders.

“Excuse me,” Mr. Valjean stepped forward. “But I do believe that the ceremony is about to start.”

“Right,” Enjolras nodded. “I better go find my seat. Good luck, Ep.” He placed a gentle kiss on top of her head and swiftly walked to the doors and slipped into the sanctuary. As he went, Ashley turned back towards to Eponine and gave her an “A-okay” signal.

“You do love him.” Cosette’s words cut into Eponine like electricity.

“What?”

“Look, babe.” She grabbed her friend’s wrists as she spoke. “I just saw the look the two of you gave each other. He looks at you the way Marius looks at me. And you look at him like he’s the only man in the world. That’s how I see Marius. So, I think that you do love him. Whether you want to admit it or not.”

Eponine listened and bit her bottom lip. “But things can get messy when you say that sort of thing. I told Montparnasse I loved him and look how that ended up.”

“Yeah? Well, I told Marius that I loved him and look how we ended up.” Cosette countered with a beaming smile. “Love is a gamble, Eponine. No doubt about that. But I really think you’ve found something with this one.”

The sounds of organ music and choral music came from within the sanctuary. Eponine turned back to face her friend with a big smile. “I love you, girl.”

“Not half as much as I love you.” Cosette leaned her head close to Eponine’s so their foreheads touched.

>>>

They had made it through the ceremony (with no incidents from the boys, thankfully) and were now at the reception. The boys, and Musichetta, were all seated at the same table looking on, where Eponine stood at the head table. It was time to give her maid of honor speech.

“For those of you who may or may not know, I’ve been best friends with Cosette since grade school.” Eponine spoke into the microphone. “I came from a rather rough upbringing and thought that getting in fights on the playground was the only way to earn respect. But it didn’t leave me with a lot of friends, as you can probably imagine. But one day, a peppy little blonde girl skipped over to me when I was just sitting on the swing set. I don’t remember exactly what I said to her, but it was something along the lines of ‘get lost’. Normally, that was enough to get someone to run away or challenge me to a fight. But she didn’t run or challenge me. Instead, she complimented me on my toughness. She wanted me to show her some moves so she could learn to fight. And the rest, as they say, is history.” She smiled at the memory. “From that day on, I pretty much appointed myself as her personal and emotional guardian. Whenever she would get a new boyfriend, I would have to put them through the ringer to make sure that they weren’t going to waste her time or hurt her. Incidentally, I scared a few of them away. But that was just because they were weak.” A small chuckle moved through the room. “And if you didn’t know, I had actually gone on a few dates with Marius before he met Cosette. When they did meet, they hit it off right away. Anyone could tell that they seemed to have been made for each other. At the time, this was a rather difficult thing for me to come to terms with since he was technically dating me, but… After some friends came to my aid,” She nodded towards the table where her roommates sat. “And after some time had passed, I was able to see Marius and Cosette for who they are now.” Then, Eponine turned to face the newly married couple sitting to her left. “Soulmates. I don’t think I have ever seen two people more perfect for each other. And I am so glad that the little blonde girl I met all those years ago and a sort-of ex-boyfriend were able to come together.” Tears stung the corner of her eyes as she raised a champagne glass. “To the bride and groom.”

A round of applause ran around the room, as the glasses clinked and Eponine embraced her best friend.

“She should have asked us to write her speech.” Grantaire said, lightly sipping on his first glass of champagne. He wanted to be sure to savor it as much as he could. “We could have made it better.”

“Stop it, R,” Enjolras shot him a look. “I thought it was great.”

“Your opinion is a little biased.” Musichetta teased him, pushing her glass of champagne away from her.

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Well, thank you, for being gentlemen during the ceremony. I feel like this is going to be asking a lot, but can you continue this during the reception?”

“Not part of the agreement.” Combeferre said, through a mouthful of food. “Michelle is going to choose me as soon as I’m done making out with this delicious salmon.”

Grantaire scrunched his nose. “The salmon was seasoned all wrong. You would think that with all the money Marius and Cosette have shed on this stupid day would have paid for a better caterer.”

“Do you want me to drink your champagne for you, babe?” Courfeyrac asked Musichetta. In response, she gave him a look that could kill.

Grantaire watched them with a skeptical look. “Why aren’t you drinking, Chetta? Just because I’m on a strict drink limit, doesn’t mean you have to. I need someone to drink for me.”

Musichetta shrugged. “I’m just so full from all that food.”

“Hey, guys,” Eponine came over to the table then, placing a hand on Enjolras’ shoulder. “So I guess you ought to be congratulated for not acting like asses. And for helping Marius with his vows.”

“Wait, you know about that?” Enjolras asked uneasily.

“Well, I think I have spent enough time with you to recognize your stamp on the written word.”

“Damn, girl.” Courfeyrac made a fist and pounded his chest over his heart. “Respect.”

Enjolras looked at her unconvinced. “Really?”

She laughed. “No, Marius texted me last night on his way home.”

“See? You were worried about nothing.” Combeferre told her.

“Yeah, we can step up when the situation demands it.” Grantaire wagged his head smugly.

Michelle made her way over to their table at that point. “Hey, guys.” She smiled brightly at Combeferre and Grantaire.

Combeferre stood up, almost choking on the little bit of salmon still in his mouth. “Do you want to dance?” He asked, almost aggressively.

She smiled. “I thought you would never ask.” She grabbed him by the hand and started dragging him towards the dance floor.

“Dude, you are dead to me,” Grantaire muttered to him as he struggled to place his napkin on his plate.

“Snooze, you lose.” Combeferre sneered in his face, allowing the woman to drag him.

“Well, there goes that opportunity.” Grantaire slumped against his chair, pouting his bottom lip.

Eponine went to rub his shoulders to console him. “Don’t worry, R. There’s plenty of options here.”

“Yeah, Marius mentioned one of his groomsmen was a viable option.” Courfeyrac spoke up.

“Oh, my god,” Musichetta gasped. “They’re all hot. There is literally no downside to that.”

“You think I could land any of those Adonis’s?” R scoffed. “Ain’t no way any of those guys are going to stoop down to my level.”

“Not with that attitude,” Eponine encouraged. “Come on, R. Let’s go dance and maybe we can scan the room.”

R rolled his eyes, but allowed himself to be dragged by Eponine towards the dance floor. Enjolras breathed out a sigh of relief and leaned forward, still dropping his voice low. “Courf told me about the baby.” He told Chetta.

She turned and gave her boyfriend a death glare. “Funny, I believe I strictly told him not to tell anyone today.”

Courfeyrac rubbed her arm timidly. “I was just so excited, babe.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Enjolras waved a hand. “Do you have any sort of plan going forward?”

“What do you mean?”

The blonde tried to practice some patience. “Well, for one, you guys don’t even live with each other. Where are you going to raise the baby? The apartment is fine, but I don’t think I trust Grantaire not giving the baby alcohol when we aren’t looking.”

“Do we really need to think about that right now?” Courf whined. “This is supposed to be a party.”

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.” Enjolras stated.

“Maybe he has a point, babe.” Chetta said, again turning towards her man. “What if we got our own place? Not yours, or mine. Joly is great, but he is way too anal about tidiness and would not vibe well with a babe. Let’s get a new place that we can call our own.”

Courfeyrac cradled her face tenderly. “Deal.” He smiled. “I love you so much. I want to do it all with you.” The couple lip-locked fervently, while leaving Enjolras feeling awkward. He instead focused his attention to the dance floor. Combeferre and Michelle were grinding on each other pretty hard, almost like their skins were glued to each other. Cosette and Marius had joined the festivities and were dancing alongside Eponine and Grantaire. The four of them giggled as each of them showed off their dorkiest dance moves. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight in front of him. His friends seemed to be so happy with their lives. And so was he. But a question still loomed over him. “Hey guys,” He turned back to see Chetta and Courf still in a lover’s embrace, practically inhaling each other. “Guys!” He snapped his fingers and that finally separated the two.

“Huh?” Courf looked around with a half-dazed look in his eye and lipstick smeared on his mouth.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Go ahead, it’s not like we were doing anything.” Courf said sarcastically.

“What is it, Enj?” Chetta asked, elbowing him in the gut.

“How did you guys do that? Just jump right in and make such a huge decision. Are you not at all freaked out by any of this?” Enjolras’ marble face was painted with worry and wonder.

Musichetta smiled. “Of course, I am. You’re right, this is… huge. I’m going to pushing a human out of me in a few months.” Enjolras shuddered violently at that comment. “But… when you’re with someone you love…” She leaned into Courf’s chest and snuggled close to him. “All the big stuff isn’t as scary. Because you’re not alone.”

Before anyone could say anything else, the music changed into a slow Ed Sheeran song. Courfeyrac stood and held out a hand towards his girlfriend. “May I have this dance, milady?” She giggled and took his hand. Enjolras watched them go, left to think about… well, everything.

“I think you guys would be great together,” Eponine told Grantaire as they slow danced. She gestured towards one of the groomsmen dancing with one of Cosette’s elderly aunts.

“Seems too soft.” Grantaire sneered. He stole a few glances, watching the nearly god-like man charm his way with an old lady. Why was that endearing to him?

“R, stop talking yourself out of happiness.” Eponine gently nudged him. “You are an amazing guy, when you’re not drinking.”

The curly-haired man laughed at that. “You’re too kind.”

“Any person would be lucky to have you.” She insisted.

He smiled at her. “Kind and naïve. I know the kind of people I attract, Ep. They’re not the cologne models, like that guy. They’re the down and out, low self-esteem kind of people that are just looking for a moment where they don’t feel like pieces of shit.”

Eponine rolled her eyes. “I think you are too cynical.”

“He’s not just my type. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Because he’s not Enjolras?”

Grantaire stilled and stared wide-eyed at Eponine. “What?”

“R, the Marble Man might be oblivious to… nearly all social cues, but I’m not.” She shrugged. “I can see how you look at him when he’s not looking at you. I’ve known for a while now.”

He swallowed hard, unsure of what to say next. “Do you hate me?”

She scoffed. “Of course not. If I hated you, then I would be a hypocrite. Because obviously, I fell for him, too.”

Grantaire nodded. “I hope you know… I have no intention of getting between you guys. You’re both too important for me to start acting like a jealous bitch. Besides, I know that I’m not the one he loves.”

“Mind if I cut in?” A voice split them apart and they turned to see the Marble Man himself standing there.

R smiled widely and held out his arms. “I would love to dance with you, bro.” He joked. “I thought you would never ask.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Touch me and I punch you.”

“Alright, geez,” R dropped his hands, but placed a gentle kiss on Eponine’s hand. “Thanks for the dance, dear Eponine.” He then disappeared into the crowd of dancing couples.

Eponine watched him go, feeling some sympathy for him. “What’s wrong?” She heard Enjolras ask as he gripped her hand.

She smiled and threw her arms around him, swaying to the music. “I just hope he can get laid tonight. He really needs it.”

He smiled as he wrapped his arms around her waist. “Well, don’t tell him I did this, but I might have convinced the groomsmen he’s been ogling all day to ask him to dance.”

They both looked and sure enough the two men were talking, not yet dancing. The nervous energy between them was like young teenagers asking each other to prom but being too scared to say anything. Eponine smiled and looked back at Enjolras. “Why did you do that?”

“Well, the short answer, I’m tired of hearing him complain about his dry spell.” He grinned. “But the long, and honest answer, is that he’s my best friend, despite my better judgement. And I think it’s about time he finds someone. He jokes about being perpetually single his whole life, but I hope that one day he can find a person that help him. Maybe get him sober.” He chuckled at his own joke.

“That’s very sweet of you.” Eponine looked up at him adoringly.

His blue eyes pierced her brown. “I guess you’re rubbing off on me.”

She smirked, then bit her lip. “Hey… do you remember last night at all?”

“If you are referring to when I put my stamp of approval on the line ‘I am one with the gods and heaven is near’ in Marius’ wedding vows, I would say that no, I don’t remember.”

Eponine slapped his shoulder. “No, dummy, I’m talking about when I was putting you to bed.”

He lifted his head and knit his eyebrows in thought. “I’m not exactly sure. I think I had a dream you carried me to bed.”

“That wasn’t a dream. By the way, you are very heavy. But when I was putting you to bed and I tucked you in… you told me something. Something that I’ve been thinking, and truthfully, freaking out about it all day. But… today… has shown me a new way of looking at things. That I shouldn’t be scared of…”

“I love you.” Enjolras finally remembered the night before and suddenly felt empowered. Maybe by his conversation with Courfeyrac, which in itself is a very odd scenario. Maybe it was the wedding. Maybe it was just a moment of craziness. But one thing was certain. He meant it.

Eponine could tell. She could see it in his face, in the way he looked at her. Suddenly, she felt like they were the only ones in the room. “I love you, too.”


	36. Master and a half

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for not updating as much! I hit a weeeeeee bit of writer's block. I'm going to try and be better I promise! Thank you, thank you, thank you for all your kind words and kudos you leave behind! They are great motivators!

“Is it oddly quiet in here to you, or is it just me?” Enjolras asked looking around the apartment curiously. He and Eponine were enjoying a nice breakfast at the dining table the morning after Marius and Cosette’s wedding. Surprisingly, no one had interrupted them nor had they heard a peep out of any of the guys. It was a weird feeling. And Enjolras did not trust it.

Eponine’s phone dinged and she looked at it. Smiling, she showed him her phone. “Well, Marius and Cosette made it to Italy just fine.” Her phone was a picture of the newlyweds snuggling on the beach.

“Are you not freaked out by the level of silence?” He questioned, not able to shake the feeling of dread he felt.

She shrugged. “Courf spent the night at Chetta’s and Combe actually landed Michelle, by some random act of God, so that takes care of those two. And Grantaire is probably just asleep. I think you’re worried about nothing.”

The blonde grunted, his eyes darting around the room. “It’s probably the calm before the storm.”

Eponine reached out and grabbed his hand. “Well, I, for one, am glad for this time alone with you. Because, in case you forgot, I love you.” She leaned and gave him a gentle kiss.

When they broke apart, they went back to their breakfast, feeling content, but still not letting go of each other’s hand. There was something unusually wonderful about sitting there, holding each other’s hand, and knowing how the other person felt about the other. Neither one of them were used to this level of bliss, but they sure didn’t want it to end.

In the middle of them taking a bite, the sound of a door opening caught them both by surprise. They looked and saw a man in only his boxer shorts yawn and scratch his head. The couple stared wide-eyed as the man, with a perfectly sculpted torso, made his way wordlessly and carelessly to the fridge and withdraw a bottle of water. He took a large gulp from it and then gave the frozen couple at the table a nod of acknowledgement. “Hey,” He said casually.

“Hi?” Enjolras managed to say, the confusion in his tone very apparent.

Grantaire stumbled out of his room at that point. “Jamie, wait. Don’t wake my-“ He moved quickly, but stopped in his tracks when he saw Eponine and Enjolras sitting at the breakfast table staring between him and the shirtless man. “Hey, roomies.” The curly haired man waved nervously.

“Oh, you guys are the roommates?” The shirtless man asked. He then smiled, showing off a perfectly white smile, and held out his hand towards them. “I’m Jamie.”

“Yeah, you were one of Marius’ groomsmen, right?” Eponine asked as she shook his hand.

“That’s right. Oh, and you’re the maid of honor.” He gasped at the realization. “I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you in a casual state.” He gestured to her pajama bottoms and baggy t-shirt. Eponine shifted in her chair, feeling slightly insecure.

“Uh, I thought you said you were going to shower.” Grantaire moved closer to him as he spoke.

“Oh, yeah. Where is your shower?”

“At the end of the hall.” Enjolras pointed in the direction.

“Thanks, I’ll be right back.” Before he left, he placed a chaste kiss on Grantaire’s lips. R had to hide his blush as the shirtless man disappeared down the hall. Then, he looked back to see Eponine giving him a wide and goofy grin and Enjolras looking uncomfortable.

“I’m guessing the dry spell is over?” She asked excitedly.

Grantaire sunk into one of the chairs across from them. “To the say the very least.” He grinned back at them. Eponine squealed excitedly.

“Good for you, man.” Enjolras told him with a curt nod. 

“Yeah, major kudos on landing that one.” Eponine gave him a high-five. “See? I told you he wasn’t out of your league.”

“Oh, no. He totally is.” Grantaire insisted. “He’s an Instagram model that is currently being recruited by Gucci. But he’s on the fence about it because he owns and runs a non-profit organization that helps builds schools in third-world countries and he’s concerned that modelling will, and I quote, ‘distract him from what really matters in life.’”

“Are you serious? He sounds absolutely perfect.” Eponine commented, earning a stiff grunt from Enjolras. She ignored it and then leaned in towards Grantaire. “And how was he last night?”

Grantaire gave a chef’s kiss. “Molto bene.”

Enjolras grimaced. “Can we please change the subject now?”

“Enj,” Eponine slapped him in the shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Ep.” Grantaire waved a hand at him. “No one can kill the high I am riding right now. Did you know that he was born in Scotland?”

Eponine knit her eyebrows together. “Really? He didn’t have an accent.”

“No, because he grew up in the States. But let me tell you, if what I experienced last night was a fraction of what the average Scottish man has to offer, then I say, God bless Scotland.” He gave a salute to emphasize his point.

Enjolras groaned, while Eponine giggled. Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of a knock on the door. They stopped and looked quizzically at it. “Jamie didn’t think the hallway was the shower, right?” Eponine asked.

“No, I hear the water running.” R told her. “Is it Combeferre or Courfeyrac?”

“They have a key.” She said.

Enjolras stood. “Well, we can play guessing games all morning, or we can see who’s at the door.” He moved to answer it.

“Hey, if it’s that crazy lady down the hall, tell her I moved.” Grantaire told him. “She keeps trying to get me to ‘fix her pipes’.” He shuddered and fled to the kitchen so he would be hidden from the door.

Eponine followed Enjolras, her own curiosity getting the better of her. When they opened the door, she regretted it instantly. There, standing the doorway, was an older couple. The man was tall with curly sandy red hair. The woman stood at his shoulder height, her brown hair in a messy disarray. Their clothes were wrinkly and shabby looking, both sporting dark circles under their eyes. “Hello, love!” The woman held out her arms.

“Mom?” Eponine gasped. “Dad?”

Enjolras stood frozen and in shock. “These are your parents?” His first thought when he looked at them was that they were homeless.

“There’s our girl.” Eponine’s father gestured and smiled wide at his daughter. His smile revealed he was missing a tooth. “How’s about a hug?”

“What in the hell are you doing here?” Eponine asked, not moving. “How did you even know where I live?”

“Well, since you blocked our numbers,” Her mother explained. “We had to call in a favor. You remember Uncle Claqusous.”

“Are you going to let us in?” Her father asked.

“Uh, yeah, come-“ Enjolras opened the door wider.

But Eponine gripped the door and held it still. “No. You are not welcome here. You can’t just show up uninvited and expect me to forgive and forget.”

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Courfeyrac and Musichetta stepped off and turned towards their apartment, giggling like newlyweds. They stopped when they saw the scene at their front door. “Um, what’s up, guys?” Courfeyrac asked, pointing at the two new individuals.

“They’re Ep’s parents.” Grantaire called, standing on his tiptoes behind Enjolras and Eponine. He had heard the drama unfolding in the doorway and slipped behind them.

“Wow, what an honor.” Courfeyrac shook his hands with them and greeted them fervently.

“Okay, stop!” Eponine shouted, making them all stop and stare at her. “We are not doing the Meet the Parents routine. You two need to go. Now.” She gestured to her parents and then to the elevator.

A door down the hall opened. A lady poked her head out the door and looked towards them. She smiled wickedly. “Is Grantaire in?” She asked them.

“No, Mrs. Whitmore.” Courfeyrac told her, while staring at the ceiling. “Remember? He moved to Majorca.”

The lady frowned but then lifted an eyebrow at him. “Well, I guess you could do. Do you want to help fix my pipes?”

“Okay, everyone inside.” Eponine groaned. As her father passed, she shoved a hand in his face. “Give me Enjolras’ watch.”

Enjolras looked down at his wrist and realized his wrist was bare. “How did he do that? I didn’t even feel it.”

>>>

“But then of course, we didn’t have a ticket and who should be coming down the aisle, but the ticket collector.” Eponine’s father was in the middle regaling a story from Eponine’s youth. They all sat in the living room, Enjolras, Grantaire, Jamie, Courfeyrac, and Chetta sitting on the couch, while Eponine’s parents sat in the chair across from the couch, her mom sitting on her dad’s lap. Eponine stood, unable to bring herself to sit, with her arms crossed. “So, what we did,” Mr. Thernadier continued. “We pushed Eponine to the ground and had her pretend like she was having an epileptic fit. Sure enough, a large group of people swarm around us, including the ticket collector. Everyone was panicking, my wife was putting on the water works, it was utterly chaotic.” The two of them laughed at the memory, the members on the couch letting out a few chuckles themselves.

“Yeah, it was real fun to have that happen on your birthday.” Eponine deadpanned.

The rest of the room acted like they didn’t hear her, as they giggled along with her parents. “So did you get caught?” Grantaire asked, wiping away the tears in his eyes.

Mrs. Thernadier scoffed. “No, of course not. They stopped the train and let us off at the next stop. Besides, that wasn’t the first time we had done that. It was a well-oiled routine by that point.”

“Hard to believe Little Miss Goody Two-Shoes was such a con man,” Courfeyrac teased.

“I didn’t really have much a choice.” Eponine shrugged. “He wasn’t kidding when he said they _pushed_ me to the ground.”

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?” Mr. Thernadier defended. “Besides, you had said you wanted to ride a train for your birthday, and you got what you wanted, right?”

“Yep, that’s exactly what I wanted.” She said sarcastically. “To be brought up as a conman. Well, not that this hasn’t been super fun walking down memory lane, but I think it’s time you guys tell me why you’re here. I haven’t heard from you in what, a year?”

“Dear, you were the one who blocked our numbers.” Mrs. Thernadier acted like she was offended.

“Because you only called when you needed something from me. Whether it was money or an alibi, or something else that parents should never ask of their daughter. Now what do you want?”

“We just wanted to see our girl.” Mr. Thernadier said nonchalantly.

“Well, it truly is honor to meet you,” Courfeyrac repeated. “Do you have any other stories about her swindling days?”

“Everyone out. Now.” Eponine ordered. “I need to talk to my parents alone.”

“You can’t just kick us out of our own living room.” Grantaire tried to protest. “We pay rent to stay here.”

“Now!” Her voice was laced with the sharpness of a sword.

Begrudgingly, everyone slowly exited towards their respective rooms, muttering their protests as they went. Enjolras lingered, however. “Do you want me to stay?”

“No, I can handle them.” She insisted, giving him an assuring look. “Really.”

After some hesitation, he finally nodded. “You know where I’ll be if you need me.” Everything in him wanted to stay, but something also told him that she needed this time alone.

“I see you are still being your bossy self,” Her mother commented as the blonde exited the room. “Always ordering people around.”

“Okay, your audience is gone.” Eponine stated. “These guys may be fooled by your so-called charm, but I know better. What do you want? No more bullshit.”

“Alright,” Her father held his hands and motioned them down. “Calm down, Eponine. The truth is, your mother and I… are being evicted.”

Eponine couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. Actually, no, I am surprised. That it took this long.”

“Eponine, stop being so cruel.” Her mother scolded. “As you know, your father and I haven’t always had a steady income and we just got behind on mortgage payments.”

“So what do you need me for?” Eponine asked. “Why not do what you’ve always done? Sell drugs or run errands for Babet or steal some rich guy’s car.” Then a thought dawned on her. “Please tell me you are not going to ask me to live here.”

Her parents cackled. Eponine remembered their laugh. She always thought it sounded like a coven of witches. “No, are you joking?” Mrs. Thernadier gasped. “Could you imagine living with a bunch of kids?”

“Or worse, living with this kid?” Her father continued to cackle as he gestured to Eponine. “Remember all the times she lectured us back when she was five? Imagine the lectures we would get now.”

“Knock it off.” Eponine closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose. The waves of memory flooded over her. Images of her parents coming in and out of sobriety, her brother almost always crying for attention, struggling to reach the dials on the stove to make her siblings dinner. “What do you want then?”

Eventually, her parents regained their breath. “Well,” Mrs. Thernadier started carefully. “We were hoping that you… would loan us…”

“I knew it.” Eponine finally slumped onto the couch.

“Now it’s not what you think.” Mr. Thernadier spoke up. “We already have a place lined up, so it’s not like we need a mortgage or anything. But the person we have arranged to live with… well, we happen to owe him a lot of money. And he is willing to open up his doors if we can pay our share of rent.”

“You two are actually the worst, do you know that?” Eponine told them.

“Stop being so judgmental.” Her father said. “All we need is start up money.”

“How much?”

Mrs. Thernadier shrugged. “Like $2,000 or so.”

“Jesus Christ,” Again, Eponine stood up. “You realize that I’m on a teacher’s salary, right? Don’t you think that if I had that kind of money to spare I wouldn’t be living with a bunch of man babies?”

“Hey!” The sound of a muffled Courfeyrac echoed into the living room.

“We are adults, thank you very much,” Grantaire’s voice cut through at that time.

“What part of private time do you idiots not understand?” Eponine shouted at them.

“Sorry, Eponine!” Musichetta called.

“You have quite a house here,” Mrs. Thernadier commented.

“The point is, you are barking up the wrong tree.” Eponine turned her attention back to her parents. “I do not have the money, nor would I give you the money if I had it.”

“See, I told you.” Mr. Thernadier said to his wife.

“Well, it was worth a shot,” Mrs. Thernadier stood up. “Eponine, I know we don’t deserve any favors from you.”

“Yeah, you’re damn right I don’t. Because you two barely qualify as parents.” Eponine finally let loose all of the words she had been holding back since they showed up at the door. “The only reason I call you ‘mom’ and ‘dad’ at all is because you gave birth to me. That is where your parenting starts and ends. Because I was the one who did everything. I raised Azelma and Gavroche because you two were busy riding your next high or disappearing for days on end. And now you think you have the audacity to ask me for a loan, like I owe you anything?”

The sound of door opening caught their attention. When they all turned their heads, they saw Enjolras standing there, arms crossed and a menacing look on his face. “I think it’s time that you two left.” Of course, he had been listening the whole time. How could he focus on anything else? He heard the hurt and anger in her voice and had reached his edge.

Mr. Thernadier chuckled. “You think you can kick us out, Arnie Schwarzaneger? This is a family affair, and it doesn’t concern you.”

Another door opened and Grantaire stepped out of his room. “The man said to leave. And so does this man.” He also crossed his arms. Jamie poked his head out, but then stood with his hands on his hips, feeling like the odd man out.

Now it was Mrs. Thenadier’s turn to chuckle. “Eponine, darling, your friends are charming, no doubt about that.”

“They said beat it.” Courfeyrac stepped outside his door then. Chetta was by his side, giving a signature look that could kill.

Eponine looked around at her roommates feeling touched by their kindness and show of solidarity. “I believe the house has made its point.” She said nodding to her parents.

Mrs. Thernadier scoffed. “Fine, then. I guess the joke has run out. Come on, love.” She gripped her husband’s arm and yanked them both towards the door.

“For the record, I am not intimidated by the lot of you,” Her father insisted, as he struggled to keep his footing. Before leaving, Eponine called, “Wait.”

The couple stopped in the doorway and slowly turned to face their daughter. She moved slowly towards them, her roommates (and friends) forming a line behind her almost like a barricade. She then held out her hand towards them. “Give me the jar.” Her words were slow and menacing.

Her parents exchanged looks before her mother sighed heavily. She withdrew the Douchebag Jar from her large sweater and placed in her daughter’s hand.

“You scum of the earth!” Courfeyrac took a step forward but was held back by Chetta. “That is a sacred piece of furniture. No one touches that jar but me.”

“Keep it.” Mrs. Thernadier stuck her tongue out childishly at him. “Besides, I already swiped twenty bucks from it.”

“Get out of here and never come back.” Eponine jabbed a finger out the door and her parents finally left. She slammed the door behind them and locked it. At the sound of the lock clicking, she rested her forehead on it, feeling all the fight and anger leave her instantly. Then, she felt a hand on her back.

“Are you okay?” Enjolras asked softly.

Eponine took a moment to force a smile on her face. Then she turned and faced the group around her. “Yeah, of course I am. I’m sorry my parents are so nuts.”

“Welcome to the family, Jamie,” Courfeyrac slapped him on the arm. The man smiled awkwardly. This was definitely the most interesting morning he had ever experienced after spending the night with someone.

Musichetta took a step closer and placed her hands on Eponine’s shoulder. “You sure you’re alright? Because I can totally go after them right now.”

“Yeah, I want to do a round of Nutball with your dad.” Grantaire added, swinging his arms playfully.

Eponine smiled, this time it was genuine. “I will never say a bad thing about you guys every again.”

“Group hug!” Courfeyrac announced, forcing everyone to hug Eponine. They all squeezed around her, even Enjolras, who did not enjoy close contact with this many people normally. All the ugliness of Eponine’s childhood seemed to fade away in that one hug. It seemed as though it was all worth it, just to be here with the people she cared about most.

As they held the hug, Courfeyrac spoke again. “Not to totally ruin the moment or anything, but Ep, I can totally see where your looks come from. Your mom is… not horrid looking.” The hug broke apart, groaning and taking turns slapping him on the head or arm. “What, it’s a compliment!” He tried to explain.

Eponine placed the Jar in his hands. “Your jar, sir.”


	37. "Normal"

Strange how days can start out normal. Sun seeping through the curtains. A nice calm air about the apartment. The only thing missing was the chirping birds. This was the start of a typical Saturday. But of course, in this apartment, even the most normal of days quickly spirals out of control.

The door opened slowly as Eponine poked her head in scanning the open floor plan. After seeing the coast was clear, she tiptoed inside. It is worth mentioning that she was clutching a small brown dog in her arms. “Okay, so far so good.” She whispered to the little pup. Carefully, she slunk into the kitchen to in an effort to find some water and/or meat to feed the dog. But once she rounded the corner, she found Grantaire, standing at the kitchen island, slicing up fruit, and staring directly at her.

She froze as his eyes immediately went to the dog in her arms. “It’s not what it looks like.” She offered.

“Okay, well it looks like a dog.” He remarked. “Are you going to try and convince me it’s a pony?”

“Please tell me Enjolras is at work still?” Eponine asked, patting the dog’s head.

“Yeah, considering he left like an hour ago. Care to fill me at any point?”

As she spoke, she rummaged through the cupboards to find the jerky R had left over from his last beef night. “Well, I was just taking my car in for an oil change and when I got back, I saw this little guy, and yes, he is boy, I checked, by the bike racks. And he just looked at me with those big pathetic eyes and of course I melted instantly.”

“Still waiting for the part where you felt the need to bring in a stray dog into our home. You realize that thing could have fleas?”

“He was crying, R.” Eponine insisted, as she let it eat jerky out of her hand. “How could I not instantly fall in love with Rolando?”

“Rolando?” Grantaire raised his eyebrows. “Of all the names in the world, you settle on that?”

She shrugged. “Doesn’t he look like a Rolando?”

“No, Eponine. You can’t name it because that means you are going to want to keep it.”

“Oh, but look at this face, R.” She held up the puppy and rested his face against hers. For added measure, she stuck out her bottom lip.

Grantaire set down the knife and crossed his arms across his chest. “You must think me a weakling, my dear. Cute faces are not my kryptonite.”

Eponine felt a surge of challenge in her. She held out the dog to be closer to his face. Rolando then sniffed at Grantaire’s face and ever so gently gave a few licks. “What is your stance on kisses?” She asked.

He melted like a stick of butter. “You are so sweet!” He squealed, taking the dog from Eponine’s arms and holding him close. “I love you, too, my little Ro-Ro.”

“Okay, so you’ll help me hide him from Enjolras?” Eponine asked gently.

“Whoa, what?” His mop of curls bounced as he whipped his head to her in shock.

“You and I both know how he feels about pets. That they’re basically non-refundable…”

“…Security deposits, yeah.” Grantaire finished for her with a roll of his eyes. “It is truly a wonder how we manage to stay friends with that kid.”

“I don’t think he has changed his mind on the subject so I need your help keeping this one hidden.” She gestured to have him follow her. Her plan was to hide Rolando in her room until she found a better solution.

“How long are you planning on running this con, Eponine?” He asked as he followed close behind her and scratching Rolando’s ears. “A life in hiding is no life for a dog.”

“I know. I just think that Enjolras will be more open to the idea if we ease him into it.”

“So you’re planning on getting him drunk?”

“Yeah, pretty much. My plan is making him think he adopted a dog after getting black out drunk.”

“Devious.”

“So you won’t tell him, right? Can I trust that you can keep this secret from him?”

Grantaire scoffed. “May I remind you that I hid the fact that I’m basically in love with him since freshman year? I’m like a bank vault, Ep.” He then thought about his secret vault of secrets he has with Courfeyrac, but he figured that Eponine didn’t need to know that.

>>>

“Hey, Courf.” Combeferre greeted casually. It was later that same Saturday. Unbeknownst to either Combeferre or Courfeyrac, Grantaire and Eponine were in Eponine’s room playing and snuggling with Rolando.

Courfeyrac was sitting watching TV on the couch but looked up when he heard Combeferre enter. “Sup, dude.”

“How’s it going?” He asked as he took a seat next to him on the couch. His words were friendly, but his tone was not.

It made Courfeyrac sit up a little. “Fine… What’s up with you?”

“How are things with Chetta?” The red-haired man asked, still keeping an underlying cool but menacing tone.

“Fine. Combe, you’re starting to scare me.”

Finally the answer came. “When were you going to tell me that she’s pregnant, dipshit?”

Courfeyrac’s eyes widened. “Um, wha-what are you talking about?”

He presented his phone so his roommate could see. “Why don’t you read for yourself?”

Courfeyrac squinted and saw that he had sent him a text that read, “I’ve been looking over baby names and I really think Gabriel or Gabriella might be my top picks. You having morning sickness yet?” Courf swallowed hard. He clearly had meant to send that to Musichetta, but clearly did not pay that close attention when he hit send. “Um, April Fools?” He tried.

“It’s August.” He said with a punch in the arm.

“Okay, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but Chetta wanted me to keep it on the down low until after Cosette’s wedding and then Enjolras thought…”

“Enjolras?” Combeferre gasped. “You told him before me?”

“Please, not so loud.” Courfeyrac hushed him. “I’m pretty sure Grantaire and Eponine are reorganizing her collection of ribbons in her room.”

“I can’t believe you would keep something this big a secret, dude.”

“Look, we wanted to wait to make a formal announcement until we knew if it was a boy or girl. I’m sorry, man. I told Enjolras because it was the day of Cosette and Marius’ wedding and you and R were acting nuts…”

“Their wedding was three weeks ago, you dick.” Again, another punch connected with Courfeyrac’s arm.

“Ow!” He rubbed his arm and pouted. “Dude, are you lifting semi-trucks in your workout routine?”

“You should have told me. This is huge news.” Combeferre shook his head. “I can’t believe your going to be the first one of us to become a parent.”

“I know. I am sorry, bro. It’s sorta hard to believe that this whole thing is happening in general.”

Combeferre finally allowed himself to lean back into the couch. “So now Enj and I know, but what about the other two?”

“Let’s not tell them yet. I don’t think I can wait until we find out the gender, but R is somehow still with Jamie and Eponine has been super stressed with school stuff.”

“I guess I can keep it on the down low. But do you really expect Enjolras, Mr. High and Mighty, to keep this a secret?”

Courfeyrac shrugged. “I’ve been keeping him busy with allowing to map out our financial plan for the next two years. That seems to help.”

“Are you actually going to follow it?”

“Probably not, but I don’t want to break the man’s heart. He was really freaking out at the wedding.”

>>>

Enjolras came home a few hours later. Grantaire had announced it was Chinese night, and he was planning on making stir fry for dinner. He had enlisted Combeferre to help him, and by help, he meant that he was in charge of stirring whenever he found an excuse to sneak into Eponine’s room for a quick snuggle with Rolando. The dog had surprisingly not barked all day and seemed perfectly content staying in Eponine’s room.

Eponine, Enjolras, and Courfeyrac were sitting at the table helping sort through Eponine’s art boxes. “What are these for again?” Courfeyrac whined.

“These are what the kids get to play with if they finish their work early.” Eponine explained. “But unfortunately they can’t keep these things organized to save their life. So most of the time all the playdoh ends up in one box and the other boxes are filled with stickers or something.”

“But why are _we_ doing this?” Courf countered.

“What else would you be doing?”

“Literally anything else, Ep.”

Just then, Courf’s phone rang. It was Musichetta. “Oh, thank god.” He muttered as he answered it. “Hey, babe! What? You need me to drop everything I’m doing right now?” Eponine shot him a look. “Well, of course, anything for you, my love.” He painted on a fake apologetic look and fled to his room.

“That’s it.” Eponine shook her head. “That guy just earned glue gun cleaning time.”

“So, has anyone else noticed that Courf has been like obsessed with Chetta lately?” Grantaire pondered aloud.

Enjolras and Combeferre shrugged identically, but made sure not to say anything. Eponine did not seem to notice. “Isn’t this like his first serious relationship? I think he’s just excited, R.”

“Actually, there has been three serious relationships before Chetta.” Enjolras informed her.

“Yeah, first was Kathy.” Combeferre knit his eyebrows together as he thought. “Then was it Theresa?”

“No, it was Harper, then Theresa.” Grantaire corrected him. “Remember when he tried to get that harp tattoo sophomore year?”

“Don’t remind me.” Enjolras rolled his eyes as he continued working on sorting the art boxes.

“Well, see?” Eponine said. “He’s just falling hard. And I, for one, am happy for him. I mean think about it. He hasn’t had a lot of donations to the Douchebag jar since they started dating.”

“That’s probably because he’s suppressing it.” Grantaire snickered cynically. “One day, all the doucheness is going to burst out of him like a dam. I just pray I’m there to see it.”

“Well, maybe he’s changing.” Combeferre posed. Everyone paused for a moment before laughing aloud.

“Okay, too much laughter.” Grantaire announced. “I’ve gotta go take a leak. Combe, I set the timer on my phone for when to take the pan off the burner.” He ran down the hall and shut the door behind him.

Enjolras and Eponine continued to silently sort through her art boxes. Her mind was racing the whole time, trying to think of casual and organic ways to bring up pets in the conversation. Combeferre heard a ding from Grantaire’s phone. He unlocked it, thinking that the timer had gone off, but it wasn’t the timer. He yelped out. “Oh, my.” Combeferre jumped back and dropped the phone on the counter like it had just bit him.

The couple looked up from the table and gave their roommate an inquisitive look. “What the hell, dude?” Enjolras asked, seeing the shocked look on his face.

Combeferre couldn’t speak, all he could do was violently shake his head. Curiosity getting the better of them, Eponine and Enjolras moved closer to him. Eponine looked down at the phone that was sitting on the counter. A gasp escaped her as well. “Oh, wow.”

Enjolras grabbed the phone and looked down at it. “What is tha…. Oh, no.” He gently set the phone down, and placed his hands on his knees. The realization hitting him like a shower of bricks.

What they had all born witness to was something that was never meant to be shared amongst friends. Its main purpose was to be exchanged only between two people in private. The timer had not gone off on Grantaire’s phone. Instead, he received a message. From Jamie. And it wasn’t a message so much as a picture. They had all just seen a dick pic.

“Is that Jamie’s?” Combeferre finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“God bless Scotland is right.” Eponine muttered.

“Why on Earth did I have to see that?” Enjolras questioned. He wasn’t really sure who he was asking at that point. “Combe, why did you open that?”

“I didn’t know. I thought it was the timer.”

“Well, that is certainly no timer I’ve ever seen.” Eponine remarked, still shocked by the image.

“It’s barely 6 o’clock. Doesn’t he have a job?” Enjolras ran his hands through his blonde curls.

“He’s an Instagram model, remember?” Eponine told him.

“No kidding.” Combeferre said. “Do we tell him we saw it?”

Eponine shook her head. “No, no, we shouldn’t. It’s a miracle that R has let this guy stick around for this long. I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize it.” She picked up the phone to click out of the image. When the picture came up again, she flinched again. “Ah, god, it’s like a 3D image.”

“Please don’t say that.” Enjolras said. He was clearly uncomfortable with the whole thing and was unsure how he was going to not tell Grantaire what he saw.

The sound of R whistling down the hall made all of them jump and run back to their positions they were at before. All of them kept their heads down and no one said a word. Enjolras’ expression remained haunted. “You know, Ep. I gave you shit for buying that frou-frou hand soap.” Grantaire said casually as he reentered the kitchen. “But I think it’s starting to grow on me.” He sauntered over and checked on his phone to see the timer only had a few more seconds left. “You can take the pan off the burner now, Combe. It’s close enough.” Comebeferre did not move. He stood frozen staring down at the what he was just now noticing as phallic vegetables that laid on the counter. “Combe?” Grantaire waved a hand in front of his face.

Combeferre flinched. “Keep it away from me.” He called it instinctively, not unlike someone who was having a traumatic flashback.

“Oh, come on. The hand soap isn’t that bad.” Grantaire commented as he moved the burner of the stove. “We’re just about ready to eat. Combeferre, can you set the table?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, sure.” Combeferre moved to the cupboards and grabbed the necessary plateware.

Eponine gathered up all her art boxes and supplies and went to put them in her room. While she was in there, she found that Rolando had peed all over her bed. “Bad dog.” She whispered to him, as she picked him up and set him down on the ground. She stood, thinking about how to get her sheets in the laundry without calling attention to it. The washer and dryer were down the hall, away from the kitchen, but everyone would notice if she suddenly came out with an arm full of sheets. Then an idea struck her.

Meanwhile, Grantaire had noticed that he had received a rather naughty picture from Jamie while he was in the bathroom. Good thing Combeferre didn’t see it, he thought to himself. He sent back a text saying, “Eating dinner with the roomies. Literally don’t do anything until I get there.” After he hit send, he received a different text, this time from Eponine. “Ro-Ro peed on my sheets. I need a distraction ASAP.”

“Um, Enj.” He called over to his blonde friend sitting at the table, scrolling through his phone. “Can you help me with this last bit? Combe, you two.” He gathered the guys around him, still not noticing their horrified faces and asked them to stir or slice anything he could find. If he kept them around the island, then they wouldn’t see Eponine in the hall.

“Well, in case anyone is wondering,” Courfeyrac said as he came out of his room. “Chetta is doing just fine.” He looked over at the boys helping R with the food. “Hey, I want to help, too.”

“Dude, since when do you ask to help in the kitchen?” Grantaire asked. “You are hiding something, I know it.”

“I think you’re just paranoid again.” Combeferre tried to tell him. Enjolras snuck his friend a questioning look.

“No, my instincts are usually right when it comes to this kid.” R insisted. “There is something going on that I don’t know about. Spill.”

Courfeyrac shrugged and laughed, while the color left Combeferre and Enjolras’ faces. “You also think that the government is listening on all telecommunications, so forgive me for agreeing with Combe on this one.”

Grantaire squinted at his friend. “I will find out. Sooner or later, the truth will reveal itself to me.”

Soon everyone sat down to eat, devouring R’s cooking. Half because it was absolutely delicious, and half because everyone had a big secret on the forefront of their minds and they were worried that somehow if they let their guard down the secret would come out. So most of the meal remained silent. Which was fine while people were eating, secretly Grantaire got a lot of enjoyment out of the silence his cooking got out of his friends, but then when most plates were empty, the silence became noticeable.

Grantaire had to finally call attention to it. “Okay, why is everyone acting so weird today?” The whole table took turns shrugging and mumbling “I dunno”. “Does everyone know Courf’s secret but me?”

“What secret?” Eponine asked, staring daggers at Courf.

“There is no secret. Grantaire is just on one of those conspiracy trips again.” Courfeyrac shrugged.

“May I remind you that the last time I was on ‘one of those conspiracy trips’, it was with Chetta’s scarf and my hunch was correct.” Grantaire countered. “Now, I want to know what you are not telling me.”

“R, just leave it.” Combeferre attempted.

“Okay, fine.” R lifted his chin slightly and turned his focus to Enjolras. One thing about the Marble Man was that he was not one to lie. For as stoic as the man was, he was also morally upright. He did not believe that lying was ever okay. Plus, his chiseled face was abnormally pale that R was just now noticing. He was hiding something. “Enj, care to share with the class what Courf’s big secret is?”

Enjolras swallowed hard and silently shook his head, keeping his eyes fixated on his plate. In truth, Courf’s child was not the thing on his mind at that moment.

“Leave him be,” Eponine came to his aide. “R, I think you are just being…”

“If one more person calls me paranoid, I’ll flip this goddamn table.” He threatened. “Now, Enjolras, you have a secret to tell us so out with it.”

Enjolras felt words boil up inside him like vomit. He clamped his jaw shut and tried to swallow it. Again, he shook his head fiercely, half telling his body to hold true. Finally, Eponine could not take it anymore. “Fine, we saw Jamie’s dick pic.” She admitted.

“Eponine!” Combeferre scolded her.

“You what?” Courfeyrac gasped in shock. Grantaire’s jaw hung open.

“Come on, Combeferre, Enj was about to faint.” Eponine said, placing a hand on her boyfriend’s shoulder. She then turned back to R. “Jamie sent you the photo while you were in the bathroom, and Combeferre accidentally opened it.”

“I thought it was the timer.” He added.

“Whoa, rewind, what?” Courfeyrac’s eyes were wide and darting around the room like a madman.

“We’re sorry, dude.” Combeferre told their friend.

“So everyone here has seen Jamie’s dick?” Grantaire finally asked, still trying to process all the information.

“I haven’t. Where was I?” Courf spoke up.

“On the phone with Chetta.” Eponine explained.

He flung his hands out to the sides and slumped in his chair. “Figures. The one time I take some time for me. So everyone’s seen it?” Eponine and Combeferre nodded slowly.

Enjolras finally found words. “I really wish I hadn’t seen it. It’s seared into my brain now.”

“Oh, my god.” Grantaire raked his hands down his face. “This is… a nightmare. So now the world has seen my boyfriend’s penis and I’m supposed to just move about my day? How can I ever bring him back here?”

“Whoa, wait.” Eponine cut him off. “Did you just call him your boyfriend?” The rest of the table turned to look at him.

Grantaire suddenly felt a cold sweat break out over his body. He needed to deflect the situation quickly. “Eponine is hiding a secret dog in her room.”

“R!” She exclaimed as the rest of the house turned back to her and exclaimed various gasps. Enjolras looked at her, much like a teacher who was punishing a rowdy student, and Combeferre and Courfeyrac were offended that they were not included.

“So much for being a bank vault, huh?” Eponine challenged Grantaire.

“Whoa, wait, you have a vault of secrets with Ep?” Courfeyrac asked incredulously. “I thought that was just our thing.”

“Courf, shut up!” Grantaire reprimanded him. Again, another round of loud gasps from the rest of the table.

“You have a vault of secrets?” Enjolras asked the two of them.

“They’re only secrets from you, dude.” Courfeyrac said casually, as if that was supposed to calm him down.

It didn’t. “Okay, fine.” Enjolras said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Chetta is pregnant.”

Eponine and Grantaire voiced their surprise. Combeferre just gave him a look. “Dude, come on.”

“I _knew_ you knew.” Enjolras pointed a finger at him.

“Oh, sweet God above, does anyone else have anymore secrets they need to disclose?” Eponine asked, running a hand through her hair, her mind reeling from all the revelations.

“How about something from the vault of secrets?” Enjolras said bitterly.

“It’s for your own good,” Courfeyrac argued.

“Are we just going to move away from the fact that Courfeyrac is going to be a father?” Grantaire asked.

“I’m still not over the fact that I saw your boyfriend’s dick.” Combeferre commented.

They continued to argue amongst themselves for a while, until a sound echoed from Eponine’s room. All day Rolando had been quiet, except now. Now, he was howling like a wolf and a full moon. The roommates all stopped when they heard the puppy’s pathetic howls. “No joke,” Grantaire said slowly. “I legit forgot that Rolando is still here.”

“You named him?” Enjolras gasped.

But before the arguments could start back up again, there was a knock on their door. They stopped to take stock in the people present. Not many people knocked on their door, so this was a weird occurrence. They all moved like one unit to the door, as Enjolras opened the door. There stood a little girl wearing footie pajamas. Behind her, stood what they assumed was her mother. The mother smiled when they opened the door. “Hi, I’m sorry to bother you.” She said nicely. “But we lost our dog, Wallace, today and well, we think we can hear him howling right now. You didn’t happen to find him today, did you?”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Eponine stepped forward. “I saw him by the bike racks earlier and thought he was a stray. He didn’t have a collar.”

“Yeah, it keeps falling off.” The mother explained. “We have been meaning to buy him a new one, but just never get around to it.”

“Where’s Wallace?” The little girl spoke up.

“There’s no dog here, I’m sorry.” Grantaire tried to say, but Eponine elbowed him in the gut.

“I’ll go get him.” Eponine told them.

“I hope he didn’t give you all trouble.” The mother told the boys.

Combeferre let out a singular chuckle before he could stop himself. “We’re sorry for the confusion.” Enjolras offered to her.

“No, thank you for taking care of him. At least we know he didn’t spend the day out in the streets.”

At that moment, Eponine returned with Rolando/Wallace in her arms. The little girl lit up at the sight of her puppy. “Wallace!” The puppy wriggled itself out of Eponine’s embrace and ran over to the girl, being sure to cover her small face in kisses.

“Again, thank you for taking care of him.” The mother told the group. “We live in Apartment 2A, if you ever want to stop by and visit him.”

“We may just have to take you up on that offer.” Eponine said, feeling her heart sink a little as the little girl scooped the puppy in her arms and started to waddle away.

“Bye, Rolando.” Grantaire said softly, so that only the group heard him.

“Why Rolando?” Courfeyrac asked.

“It’s better than Wallace.” Combeferre commented. They bid the mother and the little girl goodbye and closed the door again. They all stood in the entry way unsure of how to return to the scene that was occurring before the mom and little girl had arrived.

“Anyone up for a round of French Revolution?” Grantaire asked.

“Yup.”

“Absolutely.”

“Great idea.”

“Let’s get black out drunk.”


	38. One thing led to another...

“Come on, are you even trying?” Grantaire snapped at Courfeyrac. It was a lazy night in and the two boys were playing a game of Toss the Popcorn into the Other Guy’s Pants. Combeferre was keeping score. So far, Grantaire had a 4-1 lead on Courf.

“Excuse me, but this is much harder than it looks.” Courfeyrac huffed as he launched another kernel towards R’s open pants. He was holding the elastic on his sweatpants out, but Courfeyrac’s popcorn still missed.

“This is so painful to watch.” R groaned.

“One more minute!” Combeferre announced, watching his watch closely.

Eponine came home at that time, Cosette trailing behind her. The two of them had just returned from a frozen yogurt outing and still held their leftovers in hand. “Hey dummies, I’m home!” Eponine announced.

“Don’t break my concentration, Ep.” Courfeyrac called launching another popcorn kernel in the air.

Cosette smiled. “You know it’s almost comforting to know that these guys are always doing something stupid.”

“They’re not reliable for much, but stupidity is their first language.” Eponine nodded, closing the door behind them.

“Yes! Finally!” Courf cheered after one kernel landed in Grantaire’s sweatpants.

“Time,” Combeferre called and quickly jot down the total. “So that bring Courf up to 2 and Grantaire still in the lead with 4.”

“Ha!” R pointed to Courfeyrac triumphantly.

Eponine and Cosette sat at the kitchen island, eating the rest of their frozen yogurt. “Can I ask why we’re playing this game?” Cosette asked, amused by the scene in front of them.

“Because they all share the same brain cell.” Enjolras muttered as he entered the room. He had been hiding in his room, trying to work on paperwork he brought home from work, and thought he deserved a snack.

“Excuse me, but who invented this game, oh sanctimonious one?” Combeferre countered.

Eponine’s eyes widened and she turned to look at the blonde man in shock. “Really?”

Enjolras stammered. “Look, I was studying for the LSATs and I had been up for 32 hours…”

“And you still hold the record.” Grantaire reminded him with a wide grin. Then he pointed finger funs at him and said, “67.”

Enjolras gave him a death glare. Eponine and Cosette laughed. “Who knew you had a secret talent?” Eponine teased him.

The Marble Man rolled his eyes and went to the cupboard. “I’m going take my snack and go back to my room and regret all the decisions I have made that has brought me here living with imbeciles.”

Eponine’s phone beeped at that moment. She looked down and felt her jaw drop. “Oh, my god.” She said aloud. “It’s Garrett.”

Cosette practically choked on her frozen yogurt. “What? What does he want?”

“He wants to meet up for coffee. Apparently, he’s in town.”

If Enjolras was a bloodhound, his ears would have perked up at that moment. “Who’s Garrett?”

“The guy she lost her virginity to.” Cosette said.

All the guys that were previously playing the popcorn game instantly dropped what they were doing and rushed over to kitchen. “The what?” Courf asked, all three men giving Eponine the same cheesy and eager grin.

“You just had to tell the Three Stooges, didn’t you?” Eponine asked Cosette.

“Well, I do think it deserves some explanation.” Enjolras spoke up. Then he caught himself. “Although, this is an extremely personal topic so if you’re not comfortable…”

“Nope, not how it works around here.” R said, pulling up a chair and resting his chin on her hands. “I thought Montparnasse took your virginity.”

Eponine rolled her eyes. “No, he was my first boyfriend, but not the first guy I was interested in.”

“Well, please tell us the story.” Courfeyrac pleaded, also pulling up a chair and mirrored Grantaire’s position. “I promise I will keep my douchey comments to myself.”

“That’s a tall order.” Enjolras muttered.

Combeferre sat crossed legged on the floor, not wanting to drag a chair over. “I love a good story before bed.”

“It’s 4 0’clock.” The blonde told him.

Cosette nudged her friend. “Well, you know, it is pretty great story.”

“I am not going to satiate these guys perverted need to know every detail about my life.” Eponine stated, scooping another spoonful of frozen yogurt in her mouth.

“And we respect that,” Enjolras told her. “Right, guys?”

“Get lost, dweeb.” R booed him. “Please tell us, Eponine, before Enjolras narcs on us to our parents.”

Eponine shook her head. “No, this is all so stupid. I’m just going to tell Garrett that I can’t make it.”

“Fine, I’ll tell you about when I lost my virginity.” Courf said, holding out his hands.

“No,” The men in the room all said at once.

“No one wants to hear about that train wreck.” Combeferre slapped him on the leg.

Eponine and Cosette sat forward. “We love a train wreck.” Cosette said.

“Yeah, spill.” Eponine jabbed a spoon at him.

“Only if you tell us your story after mine.” Courf wagered.

Grantaire rolled his eyes dramatically. “You don’t know what you are agreeing to, Ep.”

“Done.” She nodded. “Now, spin us a yarn.”

Courfeyrac readied himself, almost like a puppeteer getting ready to perform a children’s show. “Okay, well I was 15.”

“Too late to turn back now.” Combeferre moaned.

“Anyway,” Courf slapped his friend upside the head and continued. “It was when my parents divorce finally went through, and I was spending the weekend with my dad.”

“Okay, I’m already bummed out.” Cosette commented.

“Can we please cut down on the interruptions?” Courfeyrac asked. Once the room all shrugged in agreement, he continued. “So, my dad lost the house in the divorce, so we were staying in a motel. I remember I was sitting on one of the beds, watching Full House obviously, and my dad came in with a girl on each arm. He told me, ‘Son, I want you to meet two of the loveliest ladies I have ever laid eyes on.’ And I was flustered, because remember this was way before I had fully realized my full douche potential.” A groan escaped from the group, but Courf decided to ignore them. “But he introduced me to the two ladies. I’ll never forget their names. Waterfall and Raina.”

“Waterfall?” Eponine asked.

“It was family name, as it turned out.” Courfeyrac explained. “But apparently he had business dealings he had to sort out with Raina. So he left Waterfall with me. And guys, let me tell you, this girl was a knock-out. Her boobs were like fully ripe coconuts.”

“We can skip this part.” R told him.

“Agreed,” nodded everyone in the room.

“Fine, anyway, I remember I asked her what she did for a living, and the way she laughed… it was so melodic and hearty. A real woman’s laugh. By then, we had changed the channel so it was playing Titanic and it happened to be at _that_ part. And one thing lead to another, and suddenly I understood why her name was Waterfall.”

Eponine and Cosette gagged and shuddered. “Oh, he’s not done.” Enjolras told them. “Courf, what did she ask you afterwards?”

“She asked if I was paying or if my dad was.”

The girls simultaneously said, “Ah,” and nodded as if they had rehearsed it.

Courfeyrac didn’t seem to get it. “What? She was talking about the motel room. She wanted to know if the mini bar was up for grabs.”

“Yeah, no she didn’t.” Cosette shook her head.

Eponine regarded him carefully. “Do… do you really not see what we see?”

“Apparently not.” He shrugged. “It was beautiful, just like she was. What am I missing?”

“You guys never told him?” Eponine questioned the men in the room.

“It started out as joke, but then it just got to be too long.” R tried to explain.

“You lost your virginity to a prostitute, dude.” Cosette told him bluntly.

Courfeyrac laughed at the blonde woman. “Oh, you are so jealous, aren’t you?”

“No, Courf. She’s serious.” Eponine insisted.

He looked to the rest of the group, the guys refusing to make eye contact with him. “This isn’t funny, guys.”

“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you, bro.” Combeferre rested a sympathetic hand on his friend’s arm.

“We legit didn’t realize you didn’t know.” R added.

“Her name was Waterfall.” Enjolras pointed out.

Courfeyrac sat and thought back to that night. The realization slowly setting in. “My dad might have called them the ‘loveliest ladies of the night’…”

“There it is.” R clapped a hand on the man’s shoulder.

“Ep’s turn!” Combeferre pointed to her excitedly.

She hesitated. “I’m not exactly sure I should…”

“You promised him. And I mean, I think Courf kind of needs this.” R said.

“Was that why she had nothing but condoms and morning after pills in her purse?” Courfeyrac asked no one.

“Someone else tell their story.” Eponine shook her head. “I don’t think the room is ready for mine.”

“I guess I can tell mine.” Cosette shrugged.

That instantly broke Courf out of his trance. “I’m listening.” The boys all seemed to lean in every so closer. Eponine rolled her eyes.

“Well, it was prom night of our senior year,” Cosette started.

“Wait, you were a senior in high school when you lost your virginity?” Combeferre asked dumbfounded. With her being such beautiful woman, the boys all found that very hard to believe.

The blonde woman shrugged. “Yeah, but it wasn’t because I was saving myself for marriage or anything. Most of the guys at our high school were just dicks.”

Eponine nodded her head in agreement. “That is the absolute truth.”

“And me and Ep decided to go to prom with each other. She and Parnasse were on some sort of break and I was so sick and tired of all the football guys begging me to go with them.”

“I’m getting extremely bummed out right now.” Grantaire said, thinking back to all the girls he had begged to go with him to his senior prom, and how many of them practically laughed in his face.

“Well, the prom was being held at this hotel, and Ep and I were hanging out at the hotel bar. Sipping Shirley Temples, obviously.”

“The bartender did offer to buy you a Long Island.” Eponine reminded her.

“Yeah, but I was underage. Anyway, we happened to be talking about how we were both virgins at the time.”

“So Ep lost her virginity the same night?” Combeferre asked.

“One story at a time please.” Cosette protested. “So, there we were talking about who we would want to lose our virginities to.”

Enjolras cleared his throat uncomfortably. Eponine knew that meant he wanted to know her answer, but was too uneasy to ask. “Leo DiCaprio circa Romeo + Juliet.” Eponine added, earning a fist bump from Grantaire.

“And I said that I would have loved to lose my virginity to John Mayer.” Cosette continued. “And who should happen to overhear us, but John Mayer himself. So, one thing lead to another and let’s just say he made my body feel like a wonderland.” She giggled, while Eponine high-fived her.

All the men stared at her with their jaws hanging open. “You lost your virginity to John freakin’ Mayer?” Combeferre gasped, not really asking anything.

“Was that supposed to be a bad story?” R questioned.

“I never said it was a bad story.” Cosette told him. “I just thought we could use a good story after Courf’s sad one.”

“Well I don’t want to follow that.” Eponine spoke up. “Combe or R, you guys tell yours.”

“Um, what about Marble Man?” Combeferre countered. He gestured over to the sputtering and awkwardly shifting Enjolras.

“Please, like that prude is going to tell us anything about his sexual endeavors.” R waved a dismissive hand. “Or lack thereof.”

Enjolras shot him a defensive look. “Excuse me for wanting a little bit of privacy. And for the record, R, I am not a prude.”

Eponine spoke up in his defense. “I wasn’t going to force you to talk about it, Enj. We know that this topic makes you uncomfortable.”

He set his jaw in a defiant way. “Well, not that I have anything to prove to you people, but the first time I ever had intercourse was at my family’s vacation house in Spain.”

“Don’t say intercourse, man.” Courfeyrac winced. “It sounds so wrong.”

“That’s the part you found disturbing?” R violently shivered. “I thought it was the bit about a European vacation house.”

“You never told me this.” Eponine told him, unable to hide her shock that he was being so open with the group.

Enjolras shook his head. “I did not think it was anyone’s business.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s your girlfriend’s business.” Cosette chimed in.

“Whatever.” He spat at the other blonde in the room. “She was my Spanish tutor…”

“Oh, my god.” Combeferre smacked his forehead. “That’s why he’s with Eponine. He has a thing for teachers.”

Courfeyrac slugged him in the arm. “Don’t you dare give him a reason to stop telling this story. Please, continue Enjolras, and may we apologize for any outbursts that may have just transpired.”

Combeferre stuck out his tongue at Courf, while Enjolras spoke. “There’s not much to tell. We had just grown close, and she was really nice and helpful. She was able to tell me all about the problems in the Spanish government at the time, and the social causes she was apart of. And it just sort of… happened.”

“Who made the first move, though?” Eponine asked, feeling a weird tinge a jealousy.

“Thank you, Eponine.” R told her. “Please answer this very important question.”

Enjolras’ darted around the room before he sighed. “She did.”

Everyone all nodded, and voiced that it all made sense. “Anyway, we dated a little, but her family moved and we just sort of fell out of touch.” Enjolras said, wrapping up the story.

“What was her name?” Combeferre asked.

“Maria.”

Grantaire gasped. “Oh, my god. Were you guys the inspiration for West Side Story?” The room erupted in laughter.

“Okay, someone else, go.” Enjolras said sternly, immediately regretting telling them anything.

“Well, it’s funny you mention Spanish.” Combeferre said. “Because I lost my virginity with a salsa dancer.”

“Oh, god, here we go.” R groaned.

“Excuse me, but I am telling my story.” He sneered at him. “This girl was knock-out. Not like Waterfall knock-out, like she was the genuine article. Her hips were all sorts of curvy…”

“We get it, my story is sad.” Courf whined.

“Well, I was 17 at the time,” Combeferre regaled. “I was hoping to try out for the wrestling team at my high school, so I was working out at the gym. And lo and behold, who was lifting weights just two machines down from me, but Quinn.” 

“Why did I know her name was Quinn before he even started telling the story?” Cosette asked to no one.

Combeferre ignored her. “It was her off season and she was trying to stay in shape. We locked eyes in the mirror and… we had an instant connection.”

“This is the most dude bro story that has ever existed.” R moaned, rolling his eyes.

“Quiet, you.” Combe hissed. “So we went out for some post-work out smoothies and talked about everything and nothing. We started dating soon, and then… it happened. Luckily, because we were both so athletic, the positions were…”

“Okay, we get the picture.” Eponine shook her head. “What ever happened to her?”

Combeferre hesitated. “I don’t think I should say…”

“No, go ahead.” Grantaire encouraged him, ready for the fallout it would inevitably bring. “Tell our new female friends why you ended things with Quinn.”

The girls braced themselves, as Combe took a deep breath in. “She got fat.”

“Oh, my god!” The women gasped and ridiculed him, while Grantaire and Courf laughed.

“That’s horrible, Combeferre!” Eponine scolded him.

“Look, I was 17 and heavily influenced by dude bro culture.” He tried to defend himself.

“Still, man. That’s deplorable.” Enjolras said.

“I’m not going to be judged for a dude who bangs his teachers.”

“Okay, Eponine’s turn!” Grantaire sat forward and looked at her expectantly.

“Why me?” She tried to deflect. “What about you?”

R knew what she was doing. But decided to play along. “Susie Carmichael, my first girlfriend. I was also 17. It was in the back seat of her dad’s car, I lasted all of three minutes and cried the whole time. Your turn.”

“Why have you been dodging this the whole time?” Courfeyrac asked, finally catching on.

Eponine had finally finished her yogurt and now stared at the empty cup. “It’s just not one of my better moments.”

“Okay, we definitely need to hear it now.” Combeferre sat forward.

“If I can tell you my story, then you can say yours.” Courfeyrac told her.

“They’re clearly not going to let this go.” Cosette said to her friend.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Eponine.” Enjolras tried to convince her, a part of him almost dreading what was to come.

“No, a deal is a deal. But I want no judgements. We are now entering a judgement free zone. Got it?” The room all nodded, but stayed silent, scared that any sound might hinder her from talking. She took a deep breath. “Well, as Cosette was being whisked off by John Mayer, I decided to wander the hotel a bit. Like she mentioned before, Montparnasse and I were on yet another break and I was trying to sort through my feelings about him. I found this cute little alcove on one of the floors where there were old-fashioned looking chairs next to this bay window. So I sat there for a while, just thinking and pondering. Having a real angsty moment. When suddenly I heard this guitar coming down the hall. I turned and saw this kid playing a guitar and walking towards me.”

“I hate this guy already.” Grantaire rolled his eyes.

“Well, after we sang a few acoustic Alanis Morrisette songs,” The boys all booed, but Eponine ignored them. “We talked about music and art and our views on the world. It turns out he was actually the DJ for our prom, but was having a crisis about what he wanted to do with his life. He wanted to backpack across Europe to try and discover himself.”

“Oh, my god. When will this start to get remotely sexy?” Courf exclaimed.

“Seriously want to punch this guy.” Combeferre added.

“Alright.” Eponine retorted. “Well, I guess one thing led to another and we found a small broom closet. He was really nervous, and frankly, so was I, but I was mostly just trying to get back at Parnasse. We unfortunately did not realize that the door automatically locked, so we were stuck in that tiny ass room for about two hours.”

“Is that why you’re so claustrophobic?” Grantaire asked, thinking about all the times she freaked out in tiny cars, restrooms, and port-a-potties.

“Yeah. It was a lot.” Eponine nodded.

“So now the same kid who took your virginity and was trapped in a small space with you wants to get coffee?” Courfeyrac questioned.

“Oh, that guy wasn’t Garrett.” Eponine told them. “Being trapped in that small closet didn’t exactly put us in the mood. And anyway, he kind of confessed to me in a moment of panic that he was gay.”

Courfeyrac, Grantaire, and Combeferre all laughed hysterically like hyenas. Cosette patted her friend’s knee comfortingly. Enjolras was unmoved by this knowledge, however. “So then, who is Garrett?” He asked, as the boys’ laughter died down.

Eponine sighed. “Well, it turned out that the guy I was trapped with, Ryan, ran a DJ business with his brother, and after Ryan didn’t show up to the gig on time, his brother knew something was wrong.”

“You banged his brother?” Grantaire connected the dots.

She tried to formulate the right words. “Listen.” But the boys all voiced their disapproval loudly.

“Come on, Ep.” Combeferre groaned.

“After experiencing a traumatic event, you sleep with his brother?” Courf asked, feeling slightly weird that he was being so harsh and judgmental.

“Hey, Garrett came onto me.” Eponine explained defensively. “Also, what happened to a judgment-free zone?”

“Ah, that was never going to happen and you know it.” Grantaire told her. “Dick move, sis.”

“So are you going to get coffee with him or not?” Cosette asked.

Eponine did not look at him, but she felt Enjolras’ intense glare fall on her. “I don’t know. Do you think I should?”

“You shouldn’t have in the first place.” R said, finally standing up and bringing his chair back to the dining room table. “Anyone want to split a pizza?”

“Oh, I’m in.” Courfeyrac said, also standing.

“Maybe you can ask Waterfall to help split the bill,” Combeferre teased him.

“Not cool, bro.” Courf slugged him the arm.

As the “Three Stooges” argued about what pizza toppings they wanted, Cosette, Eponine, and Enjolras were still focused on the issue at hand. “I think if you want to see him…” Enjolras tried to tell her, swallowing a large green monster. “Then, you can choose to do whatever you want.”

Eponine regarded him carefully. “I think it goes without saying that I don’t have feelings for him.”

Enjolras shrugged. “I know. But I’m not one of those jealous, possessive types, Eponine. I’ll respect your choice.” His tone sounded about 90 percent genuine.

“Well, I think it would be nice to catch up with him.” Cosette said. “Didn’t he say that he wanted to be an astronaut or something?”

“Yeah, he actually works for NASA now, according to his Facebook.” Eponine stared at her phone, looking at the message he sent her. “I guess coffee wouldn’t hurt…”

“Great.” Enjolras was reminded of his task to find a snack to bring back to his room that was abandoned when the stories started up. He now tried to focus on finding one now, hoping not to show too much emotion.

Cosette’s phone beeped at that moment. “Marius is here to pick me up.” She said standing. “We’re going to go get a couple’s message. Text me later and tell me how it goes with Garrett.” She wished the boys goodbye and slipped out the door.

Eponine stood in front of her boyfriend, who had found a bag of pretzels and was about to make his escape to his room. She stood so she cut off his route. “If you don’t want me to go, then I won’t.”

Enjolras slumped his shoulders. “I’m not going to tell you not to go. That would make me…”

“A boyfriend who cares about his girlfriend?” She finished his sentence.

He let out a sigh. “Look, I guess some part of me doesn’t want you to meet up with the guy. But I also trust you. So, honestly, if you want to have coffee with Mr. Spaceman, then go for it.”

Eponine searched his blue eyes, making him feel two feet tall. “I didn’t realize you were a jealous man, Enjolras.” She teased with a small grin.

“All I ask is that you go to a place with no broom closets.” He jabbed, kissing her forehead. “I love you.” She then let him pass. As he made his way back to his room, the boys turned their focus to sing whatever song they could think of from West Side Story in their best (worst) falsetto voices.

Eponine laughed to herself at the sight, but then looked down at her phone. Then, she sent Garrett this message: “Hey, it’s good to hear from you. Unfortunately, I am so busy with school stuff right now that I don’t think I have a spare moment. But I am glad you finally are doing what you love. I know I am.”


	39. I am the law

“We’re not naming our child Blue Ivy.” Musichetta pinched the bridge of her nose.

“If it’s good enough for Beyoncé and Jay-Z, it’s good enough for us.” Courfeyrac protested. “I mean, I am basically Jay-Z.”

“No.” Enjolras and Combeferre sat across from them at the dining room table. The couple had enlisted their help in trying to decide what cribs, strollers, and various accessories to buy for the baby. And by “enlisted”, that only means that the two of them kept arguing and Enjolras and Combeferre just happen to have been walking by. They both felt severely under qualified to be the decision makers in regards to these sorts of decisions.

“Well, let’s not get anything monogrammed until we can actually agree on the name.” Chetta sighed, searching through one of the many catalogs that sat before them.

“Can we please be released now?” Combeferre pleaded.

“No,” Courfeyrac told him. “Not until we can agree on the right crib.”

Enjolras slumped his head against the table with a loud groan. “Look, I think you should just go with the cheaper option, considering your combined incomes are not exactly six-figures.”

“And what sort of message will that send the baby?” Courf countered. “’We love you, but we’re not willing to spend that much on you’?”

“Yeah, because a baby understands the concept of money and is notoriously prejudiced.” Combeferre said sarcastically.

Eponine flew through the door wildly and slammed the door behind her. She rushed over to the dining room table, her eyes wide, breath panting. “Guys, we have an emergency.”

Enjolras stood immediately, alert as ever. “What is it?”

“Well, without going into too much detail, let’s just say the landlord might be under the impression that there are 5 people living here.” Eponine said guiltily.

“There _are_ 5 people living here.” Musichetta said, giving a confused look. But Enjolras was already moving.

“Yeah, but our lease says that only 4 people maximum can stay here.” The blonde explained. He banged on Grantaire’s door. “R, stop drinking out of your hidden stash of booze, the landlord is onto us.”

“How did he come to know such knowledge?” Combeferre shot an accusatory look at Eponine.

“Okay, are we going to sit here wasting our time talking about an innocent slip of the tongue or are we going to actually try and get through this?” Eponine spat.

“How much time do we have?” Courfeyrac asked.

“Not sure, but I broke the elevator and knocked on everyone’s door on this floor,” Eponine answered.

“You broke the elevator?” Enjolras gasped.

“One problem at a time, please.” Eponine’s eyes were still wide and crazy. “Okay, brainstorming time, what do we do?”

Grantaire came out of his room, clearly in a drunken stupor, judging from his wobbly stance and walk. “Where’s the fire?” He giggled.

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Oh, great. We’re about to get evicted and Grantaire is inebriated. This is my worst nightmare.”

“You’re inbeeberated.” Grantaire pushed him, but that only caused himself to fall over and onto the couch behind him.

“Alright, I think I got it.” Eponine held up a finger in the air as the idea struck her. “Okay, Chetta and Combeferre are just visiting. That’s easy enough to pull off, right?”

“Why do I have to be the visitor?” Combeferre whined. “Why can’t it be Booze Hound over there?” He gestured to R, who was trying to figure out which way was up.

“Because Booze Hound’s name is on the lease, unfortunately.” Eponine explained.

“But what are we going to do about Honest Abe?” Courf pointed to Enjolras, who gave everyone a guilty look.

“He’s right.” Enjolras nodded. “I’m going to blow the whole thing. I can’t lie. Especially not to people of authority.”

Eponine went to him and gently rubbed his arms. “You can lie if it’s a noble cause.”

“This is hardly a noble cause, Eponine.” He argued.

Her mind raced thinking about a million possibilities. Then, eureka! “It is, though.” She gestured to the two in question. “Let’s say, Chetta and Combe are illegal immigrants…”

“Whoa.” Chetta warned.

“From Canada.” Eponine finished. “And they’re… married.”

“Um?” Courfeyrac complained.

“And if the landlord finds about them,” Eponine continued, clearly making it up as she goes along. “Then, their child will be born in a jail cell. Now, surely that is a noble cause.”

“And completely fake.” Enjolras countered.

A knock on the door caused them all to jump. Grantaire let out a small yelp. “Then, just don’t say a word.” Eponine told him in hushed tone. “Everyone, just… be cool.” She went to open the door and there stood the landlord.

He was a stern looking man, his posture similar to a soldier. He had short salt and pepper hair, with a graying beard and mustache. His eyes were piercing almost like he had xray vision. “Hello, I am Mr. Edward Javert.” Even his voice was stern. He took confident strides into the apartment, his hands clasped behind his back. “I am the landlord of this establishment, and I understand that five people are living in this loft, which against the lease agreement.”

“What?” Courfeyrac said a little too loudly. He quickly jogged over to the man. “What silly old hag made you think that?” This earned a death glare from Eponine. “You may remember me, sir. I am Gaston Courfeyrac.” He extended his hand to the landlord, but the man only stared at the hand, as if it were the first time he had seen a hand. Courfeyrac nervously withdrew it.

“I am afraid this is not a social call.” His eyes scanned the room and landed on Musichetta and Combeferre. Both of them felt two inches tall under his gaze. “Tell me, if only four tenants live here, then why do I count six bodies at present?”

“Oh, do not mind us.” Combeferre said, somehow speaking a very bad German accent. “Vee are only visiting from Canada. Vee Canadians love zis glorious country so much, but vee do live in Canada, as vee said before.” He put an arm around Musichetta, earning a death glare from everyone in the room. Courf, because he was touching his girlfriend; Eponine, because he was speaking a terrible accent; Enjolras, because he was lying; and Grantaire, because he was wearing one of Grantaire’s t-shirts.

“Sorry,” Chetta came in to the save the day. It is worth noting that she spoke normally. “My husband,” She pinched his back, unseen by Javert. “My husband is actually from… Switzerland, which is why he has such an accent. But he is right, we are only visiting our good friends here in America.” She smiled sweetly. “Javert, you say? That sounds French. Tu parles francais?”

Javert regarded her carefully, his eyes scanning her like the Terminator. “My family originated from France but moved to the States during the first World War. If you are indeed visiting, then no one will mind if I have a look around.” It came out as a question, but no one thought to answer it. He turned to walk down the hall, but saw Grantaire, now sitting on the couch, giving him a sloppy salute.

Eponine stepped in Javert’s eyeline and gestured to the hallway. “He’s sick. Enjolras, will you give him his medicine, while I saw Javert around the apartment of just 4 tenants?” The two of them disappeared down the hall.

Courfeyrac followed after them. “Yes, Mr. Javert. You will see how many people live here after the tour.”

As they disappeared into Eponine’s room, Enjolras let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Okay, I need to get out of here.” He said panicky.

“Chill out, brah,” Grantaire waved a hand wildly, almost knocking him back again. “Why not just knock a cold one back?” He withdrew a can of beer from the folds of the couch.

“Oh, god, R, I told you a million times, not to use our couch as a beer cooler.” Enjolras scolded, as he swiped the beer can away and went to put in the fridge. At least he could try and prevent R from getting any drunker.

“You can do this,” Combeferre encouraged him, as he and Chetta followed him. “Just do what Eponine said and don’t say a thing.”

“Yeah, you’ve held it together so far.” Chetta offered.

“That’s only because I’ve been holding my breath.” Enjolras said, resting his hands on his knees, feeling the world around him spin. “Oh, god, I’m going to ruin this whole thing. Not only am I going to be homeless, but I’m going to go to jail for harboring illegal immigrants.”

“Well, if you’re in jail, then you’re not technically homeless.” Chetta pointed out. Combeferre nodded in agreement.

Enjolras gave them both a death glare but was cut off by yelling at them further by Grantaire entering the kitchen. “Everyone, calm down.” He told them.

All three of them jumped and yelped slightly. “How did you get over here so fast?” Chetta asked.

“And so quietly.” Combeferre added.

“Shhhh,” Grantaire hushed them, his hushing sputtering slightly. “Here’s what is going to happen. Combe, Chetta, you are going to go to the store. We’re out of booze.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Okay, if you are not going to help, Grantaire…”

“Calm down, Nancy Grace, I’m not finished.” Grantaire told him. “Also, we don’t want Javert asking too many questions. What if he asks to see your visitor’s visa to prove you’re from Canada?”

The three of them looked at each other, in surprise and in silent admission that he had a good point. “Enj and I are going to hold down the fort here, and he is not going to say a word. Enj, if you think you’re about to blurt, then just use a codeword. How about something silly and made up like… capitalism?”

“How are you this articulate right now?” Combeferre asked in shock. “You’ve literally been swaying like a sailboat the whole time you’ve been talking.”

“I told you, I do some of my best thinking while drunk.” He shrugged. “You’re welcome. Now, go, quick before Javert comes back.”

He gestured for the two of them to go on their adventure. Enjolras and Grantaire assured them that they would send a text when the coast was clear. When the door closed, Javert, Courfeyrac, and Eponine exited her room. “Madam, for the last time, it is unnecessary to see your collection of knitting needles for this inspection.” Javert was saying as Enjolras and Grantaire straightened up, R somewhat hanging on Enjolras for support.

Javert’s laser gaze fell on the boys and he looked over them with his Terminator vision. “Where are your Canadian friends?” He asked.

“They had to go back to their hotel.” R explained, helping Enjolras not have to talk. “Apparently, there was some sort of problem with their room. Are you enjoying the tour?”

Javert did not answer. Instead, he took steps towards Enjolras’ room, while Eponine and Courfeyrac tried to keep talking to him.

“Get off me.” Enjolras muttered to R, feeling uncomfortable with his arm being grabbed in a way.

“No, you’re the only thing keeping me upright.” He whispered back, as they followed the group in Enjolras’ bedroom.

“Well, this is a tidy room.” Javert was saying as he searched the room, hands still clasped behind his back. “This must be a military man.”

“Ha, no but pretty close.” Courfeyrac explained. He placed a hand on Enjolras’ shoulder. “Our Enjolras’ dad was the military brat.”

Javert gave a courteous nod to Enjolras, who felt the back of his neck sweating profusely. “I was a marine in the days of my youth. I respect anyone brought up in that society. Tell me, one military personnel to another, are there truly only 4 tenants in this establishment?” He asked, locking eyes on the nervous blonde.

He felt words boil up from his stomach. Or was it actual vomit? Before anything came out though, Grantaire let go of the man’s arm and threw himself to the ground. Everyone all gasped, and shuffled around the fallen man to see if he was alright. Enjolras knelt down, thankful for the distraction. “Are you okay?” He asked the drunken man.

“It appears as though the fever is still persisting.” Grantaire held a hand up to his forehead dramatically. “Please, good sir, will you carry me to my bedchambers?” He asked Enjolras.

“I am not carrying you,” Enjolras told him under his breath.

“Do you want to blow our cover?” R countered to him quietly.

Enjolras made a tight line with his lips and huffed through his nose. Whether they all came out of this alive or not, R was a dead man. Enjolras scooped the man up and carried him bridal style. Secretly, he was surprised at how light weight he was.

Courfeyrac was trying his best to suppress a laugh, while Eponine looked on in amazement. Javert’s face was stoic and seemingly unimpressed by the theatrics taking place in front of him. Grantaire gestured down the hall. “Onward, my noble steed.”

Enjolras made his way towards his bedroom, while muttering again to Grantaire. “Will you stop being so dramatic?”

“I am selling the bit.” R replied.

Eponine followed close behind them. “I’ll get the door!” She announced loudly. While she slipped past the two of them, she whispered, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Trust me.” R whispered back. Javert and Courfeyrac followed behind them, Courfeyrac sneakingly taking a photo of R being carried by Enjolras with his phone. This was definitely going to be his new screensaver.

Eponine opened the door and stood aside. Enjolras went inside the room, but paused. One thing they had all forgotten about but did not have an explanation for. They had forgotten that Grantaire and Combeferre had bunk beds. Before any of them could react, Javert had already seen it. “Are those bunk beds?” He asked, the sound of authority echoed off the walls.

“Are they?” Courfeyrac tried to argue. “I mean, what are bunk beds, really?”

“I know bunk beds when I see them, sir.” Javert told him, like a father who was scolding his child. “So it is true then. There are 5 people living here.”

“No,” Grantaire jumped out of Enjolras’ arms and planted his feet on the ground. “No, only four people. These bunk beds are only for show.”

Javert looked in the room again. “It appears that both beds have been slept in, judging by their general untidiness.”

“Well, that’s because… my little brother stayed the night last night.” Grantaire said. “Yeah, I’m a part of the Big Brother, Big Sisters program and my little brother was able to earn enough brownie points to spend the night with me.” The roommates all looked to see if the ruse was working.

Javert seemed to almost buy it. “You expect me to believe that the reason why you have a bunk bed is because of some program?”

“I mean, yeah.” Grantaire nodded. “You can’t really expect me to share a bed with him.”

“That is to say that,” Eponine jumped in. “R, here, has a certain understanding with… Tyler. See, he comes from a really bad home life, and he lives in a rough neighborhood, so we offer our home as a sort of safe haven for Tyler, when he needs a place to go.”

“Yeah,” Grantaire jumped in. “Oh, you should see how far this kid has come. He used to be in with the wrong crowd, but now he’s trying to stay on the straight and narrow path because he’s…”

“Trying to get into clown school.” Courfeyrac added.

Eponine and Grantaire gave him identical looks. “Yeah, clown school.” Grantaire repeated, though he did not sound very enthused by it.

“This all just seems too outlandish to me.” Javert shook his head.

“Well, why don’t I go get him?” Courfeyrac suggested.

This time, all eyes fell on him, everyone with their own degree of unbelievability. “You’re going to go get Tyler?” Eponine asked, the look on her face was trying to tell him to change his story.

But it was too late. “Yeah. I’ll go find Tyler and bring him back here for you to meet, sir.” Courfeyrac slowly walked backwards as he spoke, then booked it out the front door, barely remembering to grab his car keys.

“Well, on with the tour?” Eponine said, smiling widely and gently pushing Javert down the hall to the bathroom/laundry area.

As they went down the hall, Grantaire leaned against his doorway. “Now I am reminded why Courfeyrac was kicked out of that improv troupe in college.” He said. He looked over and saw a pale Enjolras. “Whoa, dude, if you’re going to blow chunks, then do it on Combeferre’s things.”

“I can’t do this, R.” Enjolras shook his head violently. “I can’t lie. And not talking isn’t solving anything either because it is making my insides feel like they’re in a meat grinder.”

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “Yes, you can, Enjolras. You’ve lied before, remember? When we snuck Amelie into the library after hours?”

“If you remembered correctly, you would recall me getting an ulcer and fainting from the whole ordeal.” Enjolras said, taking the hint to sit down on the bottom bunk and cradle his head.

R looked at his friend. The usual strong and stoic marble statue now seemed like a meek child and it was a rare sight, but it was a pathetic sight nonetheless. “Look, man. I know that your hard-ass dad practically beat you into the hard-ass man that you are today…” Then, Grantaire’s face fell as a thought struck him. “That’s it. Javert is your dad.”

“Okay, you really drunk.” Enjolras told him, with another eye roll.

“No, listen. I always thought Javert reminded of someone and it’s your dad. I mean, come on, with the military background, menacing disposition, amazing spinal posture, probably a big golf enthusiast. The man is practically a clone of him.”

“What’s your point?” The Marble-ish man asked.

“The point is, you lied to your dad all the time. When he called during Fall Break our freshman year, and you were super drunk, what did you tell him?”

“That I was sick.”

“Right, and what did you tell him happened to his car after we took it to that outdoor festival?”

“A goat hit it.”

“Exactly. See, if you can lie to him, just pretend that Javert is your dad.”

Enjolras shook his head. “All those lies were half-truths.”

“So, find the half-truth.” Grantaire shrugged.

“I am not interested in seeing the bathroom, madam.” Javert’s booming voice echoed down the hall. He sped past Grantaire’s door and made his way past the living room. Eponine followed close behind, Enjolras and Grantaire scuttering out of the bedroom. “I don’t know what is going on here.” Javert continued. “But it is clear that you are all hiding something. I intend to find out what it is. I am the law around here and the law will not be mocked.” The man started to aggressively search the living room and kitchen area.

“Mr. Javert?” The words came out of Enjolras before he realized he had spoken. Javert stopped in his search and made eye contact with the blonde once again. Eponine and Grantaire looked to their friend.

“Oh, my, I think he might have caught Grantaire’s fever.” Eponine said nervously.

“Capitalism. Capitalism.” Grantaire muttered to him.

But Enjolras had found a new sense of courage. “The truth is,” Eponine and Grantaire held their breath. “Our Canadian friends did ask us to move into this apartment. That is why they were visiting. But we, as tenants, voted and I think you may guess how that ended up since they left without saying goodbye.”

Javert studied the man carefully. Grantaire and Eponine were frozen solid, still holding their breath. “You swear to me, as a military man?” The landlord lifted his head slightly at the mention of the military.

“I am no military man, sir.” Enjolras answered. “I am a lawyer. My father was the military man. But he did instill in me the strict moral code that befalls every soldier, captain, general, and so forth.”

There was a moment of silence, Javert’s face unmoving and stoic. “Alright, then.” He finally said. Eponine and Grantaire let out their breath finally.

“Thank you, sir.” Eponine said. “We’re sorry for any confusion.”

“I apologize for any offense I may have given all of you.” Javert answered. “Military men are not exactly known for their bedside manner.”

“Ah, water under the sea.” Grantaire said.

“So, I’ll see you out, then?” Eponine gestured toward the door.

They followed them and waved the landlord off. Before leaving, Javert paused at the door. “If Tyler is serious about clown school,” He told them in a hushed tone, like he was afraid someone would hear. “I may have a connection or two.”

“Who’s Tyler?” Grantaire asked.

“Thank you,” Eponine told him with a huge smile. “We’ll keep that in mind.” Finally, they closed the door behind the landlord.

All three of them let out a great big sigh of relief. “And the Oscar goes to Enjolras.” Grantaire slapped his friend in the arm.

“Yeah, Enj, that was an amazing performance.” Eponine smiled at him. “How did you do get through that?”

Enjolras stood still for a moment, before a deep belch came from his mouth. He covered up his mouth. “Oh, god, I need a bucket.” He said, struggling to keep his insides down.

“On it.” The two of them ran into the kitchen frantically.

>>>

_Knock, knock._

The door opened to reveal a woman. Courfeyrac smiled, putting on his “signature” charm. “Hi, I have sort of a weird favor to ask. I live in the building, and I was just wondering do you have a son?”

The lady looked him over and carefully said, “Yes, I have two. One is sixteen, the other is eight. Why?”

“Oh, perfect.” Courf said excitedly. “Would you mind terribly if I borrowed either one of them for, say, thirty minutes?”

“Whatever for?”

“Well, you see, I need him to meet a man, and tell him all about what he likes to do, and how he loves to have sleepovers with me and my roommates. Oh, and if he could wear a cute little outfit, that would really be super.”

The door slammed in his face.


	40. Full of Happiness

Courfeyrac went around the apartment, banging on his friends’ doors. “Apartment meeting! Everyone out in the living room, clothing not optional.”

“Well, then I’m out.” Grantaire joked, from inside his room.

Combeferre came out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist. “What’s up?”

“Apartment meeting.” The curly haired man informed him. “Slip on some clothes and meet me in the living room ASAP.”

“This coming from the dude who consistently walks around either bottomless and/or topless.” The ginger haired muttered as he went into his room. When he opened the door, Courf peered inside to see Grantaire laying down on his bed, his laptop sitting on his belly.

“Come on, dude,” Courf said. “You can watch porn later. This is important.”

“Bold of you to assume I would watch porn in the daytime,” R faked being offended. “And with the door unlocked.” But he still closed the laptop and sat up. “Just for the record, I was trying to figure out next week’s work schedule, and if you keep the porn jabs going, maybe Chetta is going to find herself working a double.”

“Okay, if I’m going to attend your precious meeting,” Combeferre addressed the room, holding a pair of jeans up. “Then I am going to need to change now and unless you two want to watch…”

“Say no more.” R quickly said, making his way out of the room.

“For the record, I hate those jeans and you know it.” Courf told Combeferre, as Grantaire pushed him out.

“All the more reason for me to wear ‘em.” Combeferre winked as he closed the door behind them.

Rolling his eyes, Courfeyrac pounded on Eponine’s and Enjolras’ doors. “Come on, you two, quit doing it like rabbits and meet me in the living room.”

“Do I have enough time to grab a beer?” Grantaire asked him.

“Whatever,” He waved a hand. He was annoyed that no one was taking this meeting seriously. “Ep, Enj, out now.”

Eponine’s door swung open, revealing a very annoyed and wild-eyed Eponine. “Courf, what is the big deal?” Behind her, Courfeyrac could see Enjolras tucking in his button up shirt into his jeans.

“Oh, god, were you two actually…” He snickered.

“Courf!” Eponine cut him off, feeling a blush settle into her cheeks. “We’ve talked about this. You don’t need to call an apartment meeting every time Kanye West tweets.”

“It’s not about that, I promise.” Courfeyrac said. “Look, truthfully, I am sorry for interrupting your sexy time…”

“Fine, we’ll go to your stupid meeting.” Enjolras spoke up, his face turning bright red and his eyes fixed downward.

“You owe me.” Eponine seethed at Courfeyrac before reluctantly making her way to the living room. As they piled onto the couch, Grantaire was already sitting on the couch, sipping on a beer. Truly in his natural habitat. He looked over at the couple, who were purposefully avoiding eye contact with him.

“Combe, we’re waiting on you, bro!” Courfeyarc shouted down the hall and walked into the living room. When he entered the room, he pointed to the plate of brownies that were sitting on the coffee table. “Please enjoy these refreshments while we wait.”

The three roommates on the couch all looked at each other confused. “You brought brownies?” Eponine gasped.

Courfeyrac shrugged. “Well, this is an important conversation and I wanted some comfort food available.”

Eponine and Enjolras reached for the brownies, ready to take a bite. But Grantaire was not convinced. “Did you actually bake these? Are you trying to tell me that you understood how to read a recipe?”

“Actually, no, R. I’m still very unskilled in the cooking department. So I bought these from the guy that sells stuff on the corner.”

“You mean Pothead Pete?” R asked.

“Yeah, you know him?”

Enjolras and Eponine immediately moved the brownies away from their mouths and placed them back on the plate. “You brought contraband into our home?” Enjolras asked in a scolding tone.

“Excuse me, Mr. Lawyer, but weed is now legal in California.” Grantaire told him, taking a huge bite out of one of the brownies.

“How do you know they’re pot brownies?” Courfeyrac argued. “Just because his name is Pothead Pete, doesn’t mean he sells pot brownies.”

“Courf, when you bought the brownies, did the package come with a picture of a plant on it?” Eponine asked him.

“Yeah, that’s the logo of his brand.”

“Oh, my god.” Enjolras moaned.

Combeferre entered the room at that point. “Okay, I’m wearing the pants that Courf hates and one of Grantaire’s t-shirts. Let’s do this.” He settled onto the couch, when he noticed the plate of brownies in front of him. “Oo, brownies.”

“They’re pot brownies.” Eponine warned him.

“From Pothead Pete?” He asked with an excited smile. “That dude knows how to bake.” He bit into the brownie, savoring the taste.

“Great, now that we are all here,” Courfeyrac announced to the room. “We have some important things to discuss.”

“I swear to God,” Grantaire rolled his eyes after swallowing a piece of brownie. “If the name ‘Kanye West’ comes out of your mouth.”

“No, this has nothing to do with Kanye.” He took a deep breath in, and his friends on the couch felt uneasy. “As you know, Musichetta and I are having a baby.”

“In other news, the sky is blue.” Combeferre joked, earning a chuckle from the couch and a fist bump from Grantaire.

“Guys, really, I’m trying to have a real conversation.” Courf placed his hands on his hips to further his point. “I would appreciate us to be adults about this.”

Everyone gave him a scared or confused look. They had never heard the words “real conversation” come out of his mouth before and because of that they all feared the worst. “Dude, are you dying?” Enjolras asked.

“No, just- ugh, let me talk. Because Musichetta is due to have the baby in about 6 months, we have been seriously talking about finding our own place. And… well, we just so happened to have found the perfect place. It’s a two-bedroom apartment in a great school district and an outdoor pool. So… I’ll be moving out by the end of the month.” He scanned the faces of his audience, all of which were looking back at him expectantly. “Well, don’t all cry out in pain at once.” He said sarcastically.

“Why did you say that with the same gravitas as if you were a hospice nurse?” Eponine questioned.

“Yeah, dude, I was there when you guys toured the apartment.” Enjolras reminded him.

“I figured you were going to move out sooner or later.” Combeferre shrugged. “I mean, this place isn’t exactly kid-friendly, considering all of the hidden booze stashes that Grantaire refuses to get rid of.”

Grantaire threw out his hands defensively. “I think it would build the kid’s problem-solving skills, but I guess I’m out voted on that issue.”

“The reason why I am talking about this so seriously,” Courfeyrac called their attention back to the issue at hand. “is because me moving out is the end of an era. I mean, think about it. We moved into this place our senior year of college and now look where we are. I’m going to be a daddy…” The room groaned, and Combeferre grabbed the jar and held it out to him. “We got to befriend a weird, yet perky girl who Enjolras is currently sticking it to.”

Eponine rolled her eyes and gestured to the jar. “That’s double.”

“Grantaire is out and proud,” Courfeyrac continued. “And sticking it to an Instagram model. Again, major kudos there. And Combeferre… well, actually, you’re pretty much in the same place as you were when we moved in.”

“Okay, I’ve been using those dating apps and have matched with a couple of girls, thank you very much.” He defended himself. “And I am expecting a return response from either one of them any day now.”

“So, we’re not upset by me moving out, then?” Courfeyrac asked everyone.

“I think the question is, are you upset?” Eponine countered. “I mean, of all the people in this apartment, you are the sentimental one.”

“Yeah, you still have the ticket stub to the first movie you and I went to.” Grantaire nodded.

“What’s so bad about that? It was a significant moment in our friendship.” Courfeyrac insisted.

“We saw the first Transformers movie, dude. Michael Bay is not worth remembering.”

“Preach,” Eponine said, high-fiving him.

“Okay, so never mind then.” Courfeyrac said grumpily. “Clearly, I don’t mean that much to you people. I could move out tomorrow and you guys wouldn’t care.”

Eponine rolled her eyes. “Courf, of course, we care about you. But I think we’ve all made our peace with it. But we are here for you in this difficult time.”

“I’m fine with it, dear Eponine.” Courfeyrac argued. “I am very excited about being a father and sharing the responsibility with the world’s most perfect woman. But that means less hang out time with all of you.”

“Oh, yeah, what will we do with all those times we call you on your douchiness? I think we’ll be fine.” Combeferre said, standing up and slapping him on the shoulder. “And dibs on your room.”

“Oh, come on.” Grantaire whined. “I was gonna call it.”

“You snooze, ya lose, my dude.” Combeferre sneered at him. “I’ll start gathering up my stuff. And wipe my nose on all of R’s clothes.” He ran down the hall with a childish giggle.

“Joke’s on you, bro.” R stood and ran after him, carrying the plate of brownies with him. “I’ve wiped my bare ass on all of my clothes including the one you’re wearing.”

Enjolras and Eponine looked back at Courfeyrac, who was slumped into the chair across from them. “Are you okay?” Eponine asked him again.

“Yeah, man. You haven’t had a freak out moment yet. It’s totally normal to freak out about all this change.” Enjolras told him.

Courfeyrac scoffed at them. “Look, Mom and Dad, as I’ve said before, I am excited to become a parent and live with Musichetta, the best woman I have ever been with intimate with. It’s just that I was expecting more of a dramatic reaction for all of you. I had a handkerchief ready and everything.” He pulled out a white cloth from his back pocket to show them and then tossed it on the ground.

“Well, maybe it will hit us more when you’re actually moved out.” Eponine stood up and went over to ruffle his hair. “And if you guys need help moving, then consider us free manual labor.” She moved towards her room.

“Are you trying to imply we would be workers for him?” Enjolras asked. “What makes you think we would do that?”

“Enj, don’t you think we should get back to…” She nodded towards her door.

Enjolras swallowed hard and stood up quickly. But then he stopped himself. “Only because it is something I want to do, not because you’re telling me to.”

“Good lord,” Courf rolled his eyes as they disappeared down the hall. “You two are animals. It’s barely 10 o’clock.”

>>>

Over the next few weeks, they helped Courfeyrac pack up his belongings, Enjolras helping to label and keep things organized. When he wasn’t looking, Grantaire would purposefully mix up the contents of the boxes just to mess with him. No one cried, no one freaked out. Courfeyrac tried. He kept pointing out keepsakes and memories from over the years. The guys would laugh at the memory or, if they were Enjolras, roll their eyes, but no tears.

Then came the move-out day. Eponine was already at their new place, helping Musichetta move her things. The boys were all placing Courf’s things in the moving van he had rented. The plan was to finish loading his stuff and then ride over to unload it. The boys all stood in Courf’s now empty bedroom, looking at the empty space.

“It looks so much bigger somehow.” Courfeyrac commented.

“So do you think my bed should go against the window or in the middle of that wall?” Combeferre asked, gesturing to the parts of the room.

“Can’t we just enjoy the moment?” Courfeyrac slapped him upside the head.

“Well, we do have the moving van for the day, but if we don’t return it by 8 tonight, they will charge you for the next day.” Enjolras reminded him, always so concerned about his finances.

“This moment could really use a toast, but some uptight nerd cut me off today.” Grantaire turned towards Enjolras, flashing him a nasty look.

“Okay, moment’s done.” Courfeyrac sighed. “But I do want to say, even though I’m moving out and I’m starting a family, it doesn’t mean that you guys aren’t still my bros.”

“I’m fully expecting you to be over like every day.” Grantaire said.

“You’re still our bro, too.” Combeferre assured him. “And you can even keep your key.”

“As long as we get it back whenever we move out.” Enjolras added.

Courfeyrac smiled and looked over his three good friends. “I love you guys.”

The guys all awkwardly nodded, silently indicating that they reciprocated the same feelings. Enjolras sighed. “And I guess, now is a good time to present you with this.” He went to the opposite side of the door and held out the Douchebag Jar to him. “You’re going to need a Douchebag Jar in your new place, and we all chipped in and deposited some of the money from the jar into a savings account in your name. It’s not much, but it could be the start of your kid’s college fund.”

“Or the thing that will fund his or her inevitable gap year when they become a groupie or something.” Grantaire offered.

“Or to help build a down payment on a house.” Combeferre suggested.

Courfeyrac took the jar from Enjolras, clearly touched. “Thanks, guys.” His voice was soft and wavering. And before he could stop himself, he let out a sob and tears started to roll down his eyes. “You don’t know how much this means to me.”

The guys looked at each other, feeling awkward. As Courf continued audibly crying in front of them, they all did a round of rock, paper, scissors to see who was going to be the one to comfort him. Grantaire was the eventual person that the designated comforter. With a sigh, he placed a comforting hand on his sobbing friend’s shoulder. Courfeyrac immediately threw his arms around him and sobbed into his chest. Grantaire flashed his friends a death glare. “There, there, big guy.” He said in monotone, patting his head.

“Yeah, dude, come on. This isn’t goodbye.” Combeferre offered.

“I’m sorry,” Courfeyrac said, finally slowing down his sobs and lifting his head. He kept an arm around R’s shoulder though, a visible wet spot was still on his t-shirt. “I’m good. I’m good. I just really love you guys and I’m going to miss all the stupid antics we get into.”

“There are plenty of stupid antics ahead of us.” Grantaire gently nudged him.

“Yeah, considering the combined intelligence level of the group,” Enjolras gestured between all of them. “Stupid antics are bound to happen based on sheer statistics.”

Courfeyrac let out a chuckle. “Thanks, guys. But Enjolras is right, if we go over the time limit, we’ll have to pay for another day, and I’m about to be a father.” They all filed out of the bedroom door, Courfeyrac being the last out. Before closing the door, he took one last look at the empty room, seeing all of the memories that existed within these walls. With one last smile, he finally closed the door.

>>>

“Hey, Chetta, where do you want the box labeled Christmas décor?” Eponine asked as she entered the new apartment. They had been hard at work trying to unpack Musichetta’s belongings. Which basically meant that Eponine was doing the heavy lifting and Chetta was doing the unpacking, considering that Chetta kept pulling the “pregnant” card and guilt tripping Eponine into doing the things she didn’t want to do. Because of this, Eponine was beyond sweaty. It was a miracle that she was able to hang onto the box without it slipping through her fingers. But when she entered the apartment, she found Musichetta sitting on the ground, her head bowed as she looked down at a box. “Everything okay?”

Chetta looked up at her and revealed that tears were rolling down her eyes. “Everything is great. Why do you ask?”

Eponine gently set down the box and lowered herself to her knees. Internally, she was grateful to have a break. “Well, either there’s a leak or there are tears in your eyes.” She said gently.

Musichetta pushed the box over to Eponine, who looked in the box and saw an assortment of jars of various sizes. “Why do I have all of these jars? I don’t remember buying these. And where am I going to put them?”

Eponine was confused, but still tried to be gentle. “Um, hon, they’re just jars.”

The red-haired woman growled. “God, I hate my body!” Eponine stared at her wide-eyed and truthfully, very scared. Chetta noticed it and tried to smile. “I’m sorry, it’s just now that I’m three months pregnant, I have been having these crazy mood swings. I also have been feeling every emotion at full volume and it’s exhausting.”

“Oh,” Eponine sighed out relief. “Well, that’s understandable. And you know, with all this change, a new apartment and everything, it’s probably normal to be emotionally unstable.”

“I’m not unstable, Eponine!” She screamed and threw one of the empty jars across the room. The sound of shattering glass seemed to break her out of her rage, for she immediately crumbled into a sobbing ball. “Oh, god, I’m going to be a terrible mother.”

“Okay, why don’t we take a quick break?” Eponine offered, while sending a text to Courfeyrac. It said, _“Chetta is going crazy, my legs are numb. Get here quick.”_

>>>

Courfeyrac’s phone beeped and Enjolras looked down at it. They were squished into the moving van, Courfeyrac at the wheel. It was a bench seat and they were all very much crammed in a small space. The blonde read the message. “Eponine is apparently dealing with crazy Chetta, so let’s get a move on it.”

“Okay, it’s just around the corner.” Courfeyrac said as he turned the van.

“Combe, your butt is squashing my dick.” Grantaire groaned uncomfortably. They all had to sit in a sideways fashion in order to fit inside.

“Well, Enjolras is hogging most of the seating area.” Combeferre argued.

“Guys, please. We’re almost there.” Enjolras said, as he texted Eponine that they were close by. “Try not to kill each other.” Courfeyrac kept his eyes fixed on the road. Despite his earlier breakdown, he had been surprisingly calm the whole drive over. “How close exactly are we?” Enjolras asked the driver, as he sent the message.

Courfeyrac looked out his window briefly and pointed to one of the buildings. “It’s right there.” He said calmly.

“Great, I can’t wait to expand my legs again.” Combeferre grunted.

But Courfeyrac kept driving, the building he had pointed to rushing past the window. Enjolras knit his eyebrows together. “Um, dude?”

“Yeah?” He asked, as if there was nothing weird happening.

“Are you trying to find a parking spot?” Grantaire asked him, almost afraid of the answer.

“You guys know how I haven’t had a freak out moment yet?” Courfeyrac asked.

“Yeah…”

“Well, I’m having one right NOWWW!” He stepped on the gas and kept driving, the guys all screaming at him. In the madness, Enjolras dropped the phone on the ground, and because of the way they were wedged in the van, it was impossible for him to grab it. They were trapped.

>>>

Eponine had set up a make-shift couch for Musichetta, since the couch she had ordered wasn’t going to arrive until later that week. Layers of blankets and pillows were up against one of the walls and she instructed Musichetta to lay down on it. She brought over a bottle of water to her. “Hey, how are we feeling?” Eponine asked, a little timid.

“Better.” Musichetta said with a smile as she grabbed the water bottle from her. She gulped at the water desperately. “I’m sorry for being such a crazy pregnant lady.”

“No, it’s fine.” Eponine assured her. “My mom, when she was pregnant with my little brother, used to demand me to make her mac and cheese and then immediately yell at me when she felt nauseous. But I always thought it was because she was fighting sobriety.”

Chetta smiled and absentmindedly rubbed her belly. “Isn’t it so weird that something so natural can turn us into such monsters?”

“What’s it like?” Eponine asked, seizing the moment of Chetta’s moment of calm. “Being pregnant, I mean.”

“Well, it’s not the best time I’ve ever had. It’s kind of like being on your period, but without the blood. I mean, the morning sickness is so frequent, I’ve started to get sores on my knees. Also, I sometimes pee myself and apparently that’s normal, but still very upsetting. Every time you look in the mirror you see yourself getting fatter, and each trip to the doctor’s office just ends up being a warning for all the side effects you are going to go through. And you’ve already witnessed the mood swings. But… you also kind of… feel it grow. I mean, at this point, the baby is full formed and has arms and legs and such. But even before then, I could feel it. It’s kind of indescribable.”

Eponine smiled. “Well, for the record, I think you’ll be a great mom. I mean, you’ve managed to keep Courf in check and that’s a miracle in itself.”

The two girls laughed. “Do you think you’ll want kids someday?” Musichetta asked her.

That caught Eponine by surprise. “I suppose one day.” She said. It would have been a lie to say that she never wanted kids, but the thought of having one now was enough to give her a panic attack. “I mean, I always say that teaching is the best form of birth control, considering I have seen the worst side in kids. But I do like working with them. And sometimes, they can be really sweet. Almost every time a kid gives me one of their artwork as a present, I tear up. But… I’m not anywhere near stable enough right now to even think about having a kid of my own.”

Chetta laughed at that. “I suppose I was the same way. If you had asked me a few months ago if I wanted kids, I would have said, ‘no, now pass me another beer.’”

“Well, then what made you change your mind?”

She shrugged and sighed. “I suppose I wanted to give the kid what I didn’t have. I don’t know if you know this about me, but I grew up in foster care.”

“Oh,” Eponine froze. “I didn’t know that.”

“Oh, it’s fine.” Musichetta tried to comfort her, noticing her stiffness. “I ended up being adopted by a really great family, so it worked out in the end. But that was when I was around 10. Before I ended up with them, I bounced from foster home to group homes and back to foster homes again, so I had seen the ugly side of the foster care system. But when I finally got to the family that would end up adopting me, they treated me well and loved me like I was one of their own. But… I knew that I wasn’t theirs. Not by blood, anyway. And as much as I love them, there was always that knowledge that they weren’t mine. And so… when I found out I was going to have one of my own, I guess I wanted something that was mine. And I don’t really know if I am cut out for the whole soccer mom routine, but… I want to at least give it a shot.”

Eponine reached out and grabbed her hand. “That’s beautiful, Chetta. And hey, anytime you need a babysitter…whatever you do, don’t call Grantaire.”

The two of them laughed again. “Thanks, Eponine. But now, let’s try and get this place set up, so when the boys get here, we can help them unload.” Chetta stood up and offered Eponine a hand in order to help her to her feet.

“Yeah, where are those guys anyway?” Eponine asked, looking down at her phone. There were no new messages. “They said they were on their way.”

“Well, maybe they got caught in traffic.”

>>>

Courfeyrac had driven the moving van like he was in the getaway vehicle of a bank robbery. Enjolras kept trying to get the phone he had dropped, but kept getting yelled at by Grantaire and Combeferre, claiming they couldn’t move. Finally, Courf pulled off on the side of the road when they were well out of town, surrounded by desert.

Once it was put into park, Courfeyrac shot out of the van and started to pace in the gravel. Grantaire, Combeferre, and Enjolras practically fell out of the car, toppling over each other like they were in a comedic silent film. “Get off me, man.” Grantaire pushed Combeferre away, who knocked into Enjolras’ shoulder.

“Ow!” Combeferre yelped, as Enjolras finally got a hold of Courfeyrac’s phone. He held it up, but of course there was no signal.

The blonde man let out of strangled cry of frustration. “Dammit, Courf.” He was able to find his footing and finally stand up. As he stomped towards the pacing Courfeyrac, Combeferre and Grantaire helped each other onto their feet. “I think you overshot the apartment complex by 100 miles.” Enjolras shoved Courf angrily.

His arms flew back as he steadied himself. “Hey, back off, dude. I’m having a crisis right now.”

“Easy for you to say.” Grantaire yelled at him, finally able to stretch out his legs. “You weren’t the one who was literally kidnapped in a van!”

“I’m going to be a father!” Courfeyrac yelled back. “In a few months, there’s going to be a baby that I have to take care of. Isn’t that insane to anybody else?”

“Why couldn’t you have had this freak out moment back at the apartment, dipshit?” Now it was Combeferre’s turn to shove Courf.

“Whoa, okay, enough with the shoving.” The crazed curly-haired man shouted, looking over his shoulder at the steep drop-off just beyond his feet. “Do you actually want me to die?”

“I haven’t decided yet.” Enjolras muttered, taking his turn to pace.

“Why did you drive us out to the middle of the desert?” Combeferre demanded. “It’s a million degrees out here. Couldn’t you have stopped at a Dairy Queen or something?”

“We have no cell service!” Grantaire announced, looking at his own phone. “How am I supposed to order a pizza all the way out here with no cell service?”

“Don’t you think we should call for help before we call for pizza?” Enjolras asked him.

“But I’m hungry.” He said, almost child-like.

“Why is no one talking about the fact that I’m going to be a father?” Courfeyrac asked the group. “Me? A father? The guy who needs to be leashed by a damn jar!”

“Believe me, it wasn’t my choice.” Enjolras said through gritted teeth. He grabbed ahold of his friend’s shirt and held him still. “Look, man. You have got to get a grip and get one fast. The girls are expecting as back at your new place and I am not about to die out here in the desert.”

“Die?” Combeferre repeated. “We’re not gonna die out here, are we?”

“We will if I don’t get some food soon.” Grantaire said. “Otherwise, we will have to start talking seriously about who amongst us we are going to eat first. My first choice is Combe.”

“Dude.” Combeferre shoved him.

“It’s not personal, man. It’s about biology. You’re the one who insists on going to the gym every five minutes.” Grantaire argued, pushing him back.

Enjolras let go of Courfeyrac and stepped in between the bickering men. “Okay, everyone needs to take at least five deep breaths right now and calm the hell down.” He ordered, channeling his inner drill sergeant. “No one is eating anyone,” He pointed to Grantaire. “And no one is going to die.” He pointed to Combeferre. He then turned and focused his attention on Courfeyrac once again. “Courf, you are going to get back in that van, drive us over to the apartment, and have a very long talk with Musichetta.”

“Why? Why should I bring us back there?” Courfeyrac challenged. “If I go back there, then before you know it, I’m going to be changing diapers and taking lamaze classes.”

“Wrong order.” Enjolras told him.

“Exactly, I can’t even get a sentence in the right order. How am I going to take care of a human child?”

“Again, this could have been a perfectly fine conversation to have,” Combeferre said calmly before yelling again. “BACK IN CIVILIZATION!”

  
Courfeyrac ignored him and ran his fingers through his curls. “The point is… my whole life is going to change. My whole life has changed. I’m moving away from two of my best friends and a couple really good ones-“ Combeferre and Grantaire tried to gesture to themselves to tell the group that they were the “best friends” he was referring to. “And I’m no longer going to be able to live the baller life I’ve worked so hard to create for myself. I mean, what am I going to do on Ladies’ Nights? Get a sitter?”

“So what is your plan, then?” Enjolras asked him. “Spend the remainder of your time on Earth living in a goddamn desert? Like a freaking coyote?”

“Oo, dibs on being the roadrunner.” Grantaire raised a hand. “He always outsmarts the coyote and runs fast.”

“If you aren’t going to say anything to help to diffuse the situation, R, then shut the hell up.” Enjolras scolded him.

“Okay, sheesh.” Grantaire gestured for him to calm down. “Look, Courf, we’re all bugging about you becoming a father. I mean, you still think that chocolate milk comes from brown cows, for Christ sake.”

“How else does it get to be that color?”

“With SYRUP, you moron!”

“But Enj is right,” Combeferre spoke up. “You can’t spend your life out here. And not just because it has the same life expectancy and landscape of living on the surface of the moon. Think about Musichetta. She’s freaking out at Eponine right now. She’s not cool with these changes either.”

“You gotta talk to your girlfriend about this, man.” Enjolras told him. “Because she’s the only one amongst us who knows what you’re going through.”

Courfeyrac sat down on the ground as he listened. His mind still racing. “But what if I screw the kid up?” The question came out quietly and weak. The three friends all exchanged looks with each other. They had never seen their friend in such a state, so none of them really knew how to handle this situation. Slowly, Grantaire and Combeferre took a seat next to their friend on either side of him. Enjolras chose not to sit and kept trying to find service on his phone.

“Look, man,” Combeferre started gently. “There are no guarantees in life. So, yeah, maybe you will screw the kid up.”

“I would say the odds are definitely in favor of that.” Grantaire muttered, earning a slap on the back from Combeferre.

“Or, maybe you won’t screw the kid up. But either way, kids always end up okay. I mean, you’re a kid of divorce and you… have your moments.”

“And God above knows that my family is the human equivalent of a dumpster fire.” Grantaire added. “Remember when my dad tried to sell us tickets to the Fyre Festival?”

“And take a look at my father.” Enjolras said. “He was actually the worst, but I ended up okay.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say ‘okay’…” Grantaire thought aloud.

“The point is, man,” Combeferre told the freaked out Courfeyrac. “All you can do is your best. But the good news is, you got three guys right here who can help screw the kid up with you.”

“Excuse me, but when did we rope me into this?” Grantaire asked.

“R!” Combeferre and Enjolras shouted at him.

“Alright, it was a joke, guys.” He defended. “Come on, the kid is going to need a funny uncle and I thought I would offer up my services.”

“So, will you please just get back in the van?” Enjolras asked, gently kicking Courfeyrac’s foot. “Because if we don’t let the girls know where we are soon, I’m afraid Eponine is going to call the National Guard.”

Courfeyrac let out a chuckle. “Okay.” He said, as Enjolras helped him stand up. “I’m sorry for freaking out and kidnapping you guys.”

“You can repay us by buying us a pizza.” Grantaire said, as he got to his feet. “And don’t be stingy with the toppings.”

Combeferre screamed and leapt onto his feet. “Snake!” He pointed down at the ground and practically climbed on top of Courfeyrac.

“Dude, get off me.” Courfeyrac pushed him off.

“It’s a stick, you idiot.” Grantaire laughed picking up what Combeferre was pointing at. But as soon as he did, the “stick” moved. “Ah, serpent from hell!” He ran back to the van like lightning.

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Guys, it’s only a gophersnake. They’re not dangerous.”

“Okay, Davy Crockett, how do you know?” Combeferre asked, still hiding behind Courfeyrac and using him as a shield.

“I was in Boy Scouts.” Enjolras said, as he picked the snake up by its tail and gently placed it in one of the bushes.

“Okay, that’s enough nature for me.” Combeferre said, walking briskly back to the van. “I need to be back with people very soon.”

“Courf, give me the keys, I’m driving.” Enjolras said, holding up his hands for Courf to throw them at him.

Courfeyrac felt his pockets and patted around. He nervously looked back at the blonde. “I don’t have them.”

“Well, where are they?” Enjolras asked, anger slowly rising in his voice.

“I found them,” Grantaire said, waving his hand for them to come see. He gestured inside the van. They all peered to see the keys still in the ignition. And the doors locked.

“Oh, god, when will this nightmare end?!” Combeferre yelled to the sky.

“Who locked the doors?” Grantaire asked.

“Why did you leave the keys in the ignition?” Enjolras asked Courfeyrac.

“So does that mean you locked the doors, Enj?” Grantaire pressed.

Enjolras looked at him with a guilty face. “I was trying to keep the van safe.”

“From who?!” Grantaire yelled. “A car hasn’t passed by here since we parked!”

“Well, excuse me for thinking of the safety of Courf’s stuff and thinking that he would have taken the keys with him when he parked the car.”

“I was having a crisis, alright?”

“We’re going to die!” Combeferre was now kneeling on the ground in tears, much like Courfeyrac was a few minutes ago.

“Okay, someone find me a rock.” Grantaire said, scanning the ground. “I’m going to break the window.”

“Are you serious?” Enjolras gasped. “You can’t break the window. The rental place will charge us an arm and a leg to fix that.”

“Yeah, and it’s my money.” Courf spoke up.

“Well, how else do you expect us to get out of the situation?”

Enjolras looked down at his phone again, Eponine was calling him. “Service!”

>>>

Eponine and Musichetta pulled up to where the boys were. They had been able to open up the back part of the truck for shelter. When they heard the car coming, they all jumped out and hollered for joy at the sight of the girls.

Combeferre ran over and embraced Eponine. “Thank you, oh blessed saint!” He kissed her forehead and hugged her again.

“Get off me or I will leave you here.” Eponine grunted. He immediately let go and Eponine held up the replacement keys they had picked up from the rental place. “You boys have a lot of explaining to do.”

“Yes, but after we get some food.” Grantaire said. “All I’ve had to eat were some of Courf’s organic crackers and I can feel my body eating itself.”

“Thank you,” Enjolras took the keys from Eponine.

“It was all my fault.” Courfeyrac said, as he made his way to Musichetta, who did not look happy.

She slapped him upside the head once he got near enough. “Driving out in the middle of the desert? Locking your keys in the car?” She scolded. “What in the hell were you thinking, Courfeyrac?”

“I’m sorry.” He said, taking a hold of her shoulders. “I was just… freaking out. About the move, about the baby, all of it. I wasn’t thinking at all. And I truly am sorry. But the good news is, I’m over it now.”

“You’re freaking out, too?” Musichetta asked, feeling the fight leave her body. “Oh, my god. That is such a relief. I’ve literally been freaking out all day.”

“And we have the broken jars to prove it.” Eponine offered.

“I’ve just been thinking about the baby and us being parents.” She continued as if Eponine hadn’t spoken. “I mean, we still can’t agree on a name.”

“I don’t care what we call our baby.” Courfeyrac told her. “We can call it Gophersnake for all I care.”

“Um, do we have veto power on the name?” Enjolras asked.

“The point is,” Courfeyrac went on. “We have each other. And these people to help us. So if our kid ends up being totally screwed up, we can just blame it on Grantaire.”

The couple laughed, as Grantaire acted offended. “That’s it. One more joke against me, and I am not getting you that golden colored bottle you wanted, Courf.”

“Okay, can we please go now?” Combeferre asked desperately. “I think the snakes are planning their next attack.”

“What’s with you?” Eponine laughed.

“He’s afraid of the outdoors, apparently.” Enjolras explained.

“I was attacked by a snake earlier, thank you very much.”

Courfeyrac held out his hands to his friends. “Wait, let’s not go just yet.”

“Oh, my god.” Combeferre whined. “Courf, please, I can feel my alabaster skin burning in this heat.”

“There’s something I have to do first.” Courf said, looking directly at Musichetta. “Granted, I had planned on a different setting with a bunch of roses and live musicians, but we’ll just have to make do. I don’t know if you remember this or not,” Courfeyrac spoke as he took out his wallet and pulled out a five dollar bill. “But this is the bill I put in the Douchebag Jar the night we first did the deed. Do you remember why?”

Musichetta looked at him wide-eyed. “Oh, god.” She watched in awe as he knelt down on one knee in front of her. The friends also looked down at him, frozen with their mouths practically on the ground.

“I said that I was going to marry you and you told me to put money in the jar.” Courfeyrac went to say. “And I do have the ring, but it is currently buried somewhere in the van underneath my collection of Italian leather shoes and monogrammed jackets. But you are the most perfect woman in the world, who is absolutely crazy to have chosen someone like me. And up until today, I thought I would have never settled down. But with all of the craziness of today, I was able to see clearly what I want. I want to provide for you and our little sugar lump. I want to be there for you two the way my parents never were. So, Musichetta, girl, will you marry me?”

Eponine, Grantaire, Combeferre, and Enjolras let out a collective squeal of surprise and delight. Grantaire jumped up and down excitedly. Eponine was holding back tears. “Will you please shut up?” Courfeyrac yelled at them. “I can’t hear her answer.” They all quieted down and looked at Musichetta expectantly.

Musichetta smiled through tears. “Yes, you dummy, of course, I will.” She bent down and gave him a big kiss as their friends cheered around them. Enjolras gave each of them a firm handshake, while Eponine gave them both a big hug. Grantaire gave Courf a bro hug and gave a friendly punch in the shoulder to Chetta.

Combeferre jumped up on the hood of Eponine’s car and screamed, causing everyone to look at him. “I heard a hiss. Someone tell me you heard that, too.”


	41. A Painter

Grantaire felt the sunlight pierce his eyelids, causing him to squint. Why had he not invested in some curtains in all the years he had lived in the apartment? Moaning, he rolled over in his bed, muttering a curse at the sun while he moved.

“It’s just the sun, you vampire,” A gentle voice comforted him. Grantaire peeked open his eyes enough to see a sleeping Jamie next to him. Since Combeferre had moved into Courfeyrac’s old room a couple of weeks earlier, they had enjoyed having the room to themselves. Turns out bunk beds weren’t as great of an idea as they had originally thought.

“I’m no vampire.” R said, with a sleepy smile. He did enjoy waking up to someone next to him.

“You wear a lot of black clothing,” Jamie pointed out.

“But I love garlic, so in your face.” He reached over and brushed some of Jamie’s red-brown hair out of his face. It still boggled his mind that someone so attractive liked being around him. For the most part, all of his past relationships or hookups were drunken mistakes or with people who were just desperate enough. He almost feared that if he blinked, then everything would go back to the way it was and he would realize that Jamie was just a figment of his imagination all along. “Speaking of which, should I go and make us breakfast?”

Jamie yawned and stretched. “Sure. But can I request it to be vegan? I’m supposed to be doing this promo deal with Gwyneth Paltrow’s people next week, and I’m trying to prepare myself for that.”

“Absolutely not.” Grantaire shook his head. “We live in America and therefore, we will eat meat. And just because you said something, I’m going to make the meatiest skillet known to man.”

Jamie laughed and pulled his boyfriend over so he could kiss him. R felt himself melt into him, enjoying the “figment of his imagination” while it was still around. “Okay,” Grantaire pulled away reluctantly. “But if I don’t get up now, I’m never leaving this bed.” With one last kiss, he pushed himself off the bed and started feeling around for clothes. It wasn’t that Grantaire was messy, but he definitely didn’t have any organizational systems in place. According to Enjolras, he had no organization. But R chose to think of it as a “lived-in feel”.

Also feeling reluctant to move, Jamie sat up, watching Grantaire sort through his clothes. Maybe one day he could help him clean it up. But in his movements, he knocked over a pile on the floor that brought Jamie’s attention to something in the corner of the room. “What is that?” He asked, pointing.

Grantaire followed his gaze and felt immediate shame. “Nothing.” He moved to try and cover it back up with a sweatshirt.

“If it’s nothing,” Jamie got to his feet. “Then why can’t I see it?” He grabbed it and looked it over. It was a painting. A large canvas with blotches of red and black mixed together in an abstract way. “This is…”

“Nothing.” Grantaire insisted, as he took the painting out of his hands. “Like I said.”

“Grantaire, why are you acting so weird? It’s just a painting.”

He placed it back in the corner where they found it. “Exactly, so let’s just go eat some breakfast and bitch about Gwyneth Paltrow.”

Jamie held out his arms to hold him in place and gave him a patient and pleading look. “No, please tell me.”

R put his hands on his hips, feeling insecure and nervous. “I… painted that.”

“Okay. Why are you so weird about that?”

“Because… I used to paint all the time. I wanted to be the modern day Van Gogh.” His eyes remained fixed on the ground.

Jamie smiled, still confused as to why Grantaire was acting so weird. “That’s great, R. What’s so wrong with that?”

“Well, because it sounds pathetic. I mean, doesn’t that make me sound like such an artsy douchebag?” He changed his voice and puffed out his chest. “Oh, look at me, I’m just going to paint and drink my pain away. I only drink black coffee and listen to smooth jazz and pronounce vase like ‘vahz’.”

His boyfriend rolled his eyes. “That doesn’t sound pathetic to me. And this,” He reached down and grabbed the canvas again. “Is really good. And I’m not just saying that. You know how much I like art.”

Grantaire shook his head. “No, it’s not good. I know that for a fact because I tried to sell it at this big-shot art gallery and the lady told me that it looked like I had killed a dog and smothered it on the canvas.”

“Oh, god, that’s dark.”

“Yeah, it was. Especially since my inspiration for this was my relationship with my mother. Needless to say, I took the hint, and pretty much gave up on painting.”

Jamie felt sympathy pour over him. “That’s awful. You shouldn’t have let that lady get to you like that. In the words of the great and immortal T-Swift, haters gonna hate, but you gotta shake it off.”

“Remind me to yell at you about your music taste later,” Grantaire tried to joke.

But he wasn’t done. “I mean it, I think it’s really good. Will you let me buy it from you?”

The curly-haired man guffawed at his question. “Are you serious?”

“Completely. I can feature this painting on one of my posts and you can see all the comments people make on it. Then, maybe it can reignite your dream?”

“I’m not going to sell you one of my paintings, Jamie. If you want it, then… I guess you can just have it.” Grantaire shrugged.

“Really?” He asked excitedly.

“Yeah, I mean it’s just sitting there, so I’m not going to miss it. And I don’t have the logs available to burn it.”

Jamie smiled widely and laid out the canvas on the bed. He went to grab his phone. “Watch, I’m going to make a post about it and you will see how many people love it.” He said, snapping a few photos on his phone.

“Whatever,” Grantaire shook his head. He was determined to not get his hopes up. After finally slipping on pants and a t-shirt, he said, “I’m going to go make that meaty skillet.” He slipped out of the room and made his way to the kitchen.

One thing that had always soothed him was cooking. He could really just allow himself to be surrounded by the smells and get lost in food. For as long as he could remember, the only other thing that brought him this kind of serenity was painting. All of the art classes he took in school were like his home away from home. Considering his family was filled with a bunch of lowlifes and not motivated people, he had to be the one to step up and get everyone’s act together. But when he was in front of the stove or in front of a blank canvas, he didn’t have to be the responsible one. He could just be him.

“R?” Eponine’s voice broke him out of a trance. “Ground control to Major Tom.” She joked, as she moved passed him toward the coffee pot. “I asked you about Jamie. How is he?”

“Oh, he’s fine.” R shook his head and continued to chop up potatoes. “He’s in my room right now, making a post about me.”

Eponine looked at him with an excited look on her face. “He is?”

He looked at her weirdly. “Yeah, what’s with the face?”

“R, I know that you’re new to this whole relationship thing but listen to what you just said. He is about to make a post about you to social media and all of his followers.”

Shrugging, he said, “Yeah, and?”

“And, this is huge. You’re going public with your relationship. He wants to share you with the world.” Eponine poured herself some coffee as she spoke. “I’m so happy for you.”

Jamie walked into the kitchen at that moment, looking over his phone. “Guess what, babe? It already has 200 likes and one person just asked if they could buy it.”

“Buy what?” Eponine asked.

“Nothing.” Grantaire tried to say.

“His painting,” Jamie managed to tell her louder than Grantaire.

“Painting?” Eponine looked incredulously at her roommate. “You paint?”

“Thanks, Jamie.” Grantaire said sarcastically. “You threw chum in shark infested waters.”

“You didn’t tell me that you paint.” Eponine continued, still shocked. “How on Earth am I just now learning about this? You know that I’m an art teacher.”

“It was just a hobby I had when I was younger. It’s nothing.” Grantaire said, grabbing a pan from one of the cabinets.

“Can I see it?” Eponine yanked Jamie’s phone out of his hands, not giving him an option. “R, I love this. You’re really good.”

“No offense, Eponine, but you are an _elementary_ art teacher. You think any artwork is amazing. Just last week, you were in tears over this drawing of a dog that a student did that looked more like a penis than a dog.”

“I was proud of that kid’s progress, considering he barely knew what the color brown was. And I took all sorts of art classes in college, ass-munch.” She retorted. “Including art critique. Let me tell you, Rembrandt, not all he’s cracked up to be, in my opinion.”

“Wait, do you think you could get some of your old art professors to look at his paintings?” Jamie asked her.

“No, no, absolutely not.” Grantaire shook his head vehemently. “The reason why I stopped painting was because of a nasty art critic and I am not going to open myself for more ridicule.”

“Who’s ridiculing who?” Combeferre came out of his room at that point, yawning.

“Combe, get this. R is a secret painter.” Eponine told him.

Combeferre looked over Grantaire in shock. “Dude, really?”

“Oh, my god. Do you people need to know every single detail of my life?” Grantaire asked, anger rising in him. “Hey, I used to steal cigarettes from my grandma’s purse and sell them to high schoolers claiming it was weed.”

“Stop getting so defensive,” Eponine told him. “But also, we will be talking about that later.”

“He’s weirdly insecure about it.” Jamie explained to Combeferre.

“Well, probably because it makes him sound like an artsy douchebag.” Combeferre muttered.

“Thank you, Combeferre.” Grantaire said, making dead eye contact with Jamie.

“But I do still have some connections with my old professors.” Eponine said, grabbing R’s arm. “I can have them give their opinion and maybe they can sell it at an art gallery…”

“No!” Grantaire slammed a fist down on the ground and faced the group gathered around him in the kitchen. “All of you listen and listen good. I do not paint anymore. Why don’t I paint? Because I am not some artsy douchebag. And I am not talented. A very wrinkly old lady in shoulder pads told me that to my face. That was enough for me to stop painting and I have no interest in diving back into that harsh and judgmental world. It’s filled with rich snobs, who everyone here knows that I loathe with every fiber of my being. I do not want to paint and I do not want some stuffy art critic who probably has ten different vacation houses to look over my work. Okay, everybody got it?”

Everyone stood silently, letting his very infrequent show of anger settle in the room. The only sound that could be heard was the light sizzle of the skillet on the stove.

Jamie finally spoke. “Fine. We won’t push your paintings anymore.”

Enjolras came around the corner, having heard most of the conversation. “R, you paint?” He asked. This made Grantaire gesture wildly, while Eponine told him to hush up.

>>>

Jamie, Eponine, Enjolras, and Combeferre all found themselves sitting on the couch watching TV. They had been trying to make Jamie feel welcome in their apartment, ever since the whole picture incident happened. But once they got passed that, they found that they actually liked Jamie. Yeah, he looked like a Abercrombie and Fitch model and kept talking about “his brand” all the time, but he shared a similar sense of humor as them.

“Okay, here’s a question to you all,” Combeferre asked the couch. “Who would win in a fight, me or a bear?”

“Bear.” Eponine and Enjolras said at the same time with no time delay.

“No, but like in an actual fight.” Combeferre insisted.

“Bear.” They repeated.

“Jamie, who would win in a fight?”

“I’m thinking the bear, dude.” He shrugged.

“No, in like a real fight?”

“Still bear.”

“You guys don’t get it.”

“I don’t think you get it, dude.” Eponine said. “It’s a bear.”

“Grantaire?!” Combeferre yelled. He had been hiding in his room for a while. But he figured he would get a second opinion. Or rather fourth opinion. They all heard the steps coming down the hall. “R, tell me who would…” Combeferre stopped mid-sentence, staring in awe of Grantaire.

All of them turned to look over at Grantaire and found him in unusual attire. He was wearing basketball shorts, tennis shoes, and a hoodie. “I can’t talk right now, Combe. I’m going for a run.” He told him, very casually.

Jamie nodded. “Okay, have fun.” He turned around to face the TV again. The roommates kept their focus on him as if frozen in place.

They watched him place earbuds in his ears and job out of the door. When the door closed behind them, all of them jumped up. “Oh, my god, should I call 911?” Eponine asked in a panic.

“Who told him about tennis shoes?” Combeferre asked the group, almost in an accusatory way.

“Should I go follow him?” Enjolras questioned.

“Guys, what’s going on?” Jamie was clearly not as worried as the rest of the group. “He’s just going for a run.”

“Grantaire doesn’t run.” Eponine told him. “He doesn’t exercise at all. He refuses to include broccoli in recipes. The word ‘healthy’ is not in his vocabulary.”

“I think you guys are worried about nothing.” Jamie tried to assure them.

Combeferre had made his way to the window and opened it. As he stuck out his head, he shouted, “R, we see you, man! And we love you!”

At that point, Courfeyrac entered the apartment. “Guys, I just passed by Grantaire and he was wearing athletic wear. What did you do to him?”

“Oh, my god, really?” Jamie now felt the need to stand. “What am I missing here? He wants to start taking care of himself. Why are we ready to call the suicide hotline?”

“Oh, that’s a good idea.” Enjolras pointed to him and grabbed his phone.

“Unbelievable,” Courf shook his head. “I don’t come to visit for a couple of days and you guys have driven him to take up running.”

“Hold on, everyone.” Eponine held out her hands. “Okay, let’s take a moment and think. What lead up to this moment?”

“Well, we found out he likes to paint.” Combeferre thought aloud.

Courfeyrac gasped. “Oh, my god! What else did I miss? Is Eponine pregnant?”

“No! Stop being hysterical.” Eponine insisted. Enjolras looked pale in the face just by the mere mention of pregnancy. “Okay, we found out he likes to paint, but we promised to back off on that.”

“Well…” Jamie shifted in place nervously.

“What did you do?” Eponine demanded in her stern teacher voice.

“Look, it’s not like I actually sought after critics. But I just didn’t take down the picture of his painting and a couple of critics reached out to me. And all I did was forward their responses to him.”

“Oh, god.” Enjolras pinched the bridge of his nose. “The last time Grantaire went on a run was when Martha Stewart went to jail. Now he’s freaking out about people seeing his artwork. How could you let this happen?”

“Whoa, hold on. Are you saying I caused this?” Jamie tried to argue.

“Well, it was your post.” He countered.

“Guys, not the issue here.” Eponine snapped her fingers. “For all we know, Grantaire could have already collapsed.”

The door burst open at that point to reveal a gasping and sweaty Grantaire. The roommates all sighed out relief and greeted him, telling him they were glad he was okay. “Whoever invented running needs to be burn at the stake in the town square.” He gasped, as he collapsed on the ground. His clothes were wet and stained with sweat. “Oh, god. I can’t feel the bottom half of my body.”

“You were on a run for like 2 minutes.” Jamie told him as he and Combeferre went to carry him to the couch.

“And it is the closest to death I ever want to be.” R retorted. “Someone get me a beer, stat.”

“I think what you need is water.” Enjolras said, while handing him a water bottle.

R took it and chucked it across the room. “No, I will not do anything healthy for the next five days. Beer or nothing.” By then, they had set him up on the couch, causing him to yelp out when his skin made contact with the leather.

Combeferre sat next to him on the couch. “Dude, you should stretch otherwise you’re going to cramp up.”

“Too late.” He groaned. “What does a heart attack feel like?”

“What were you thinking?” Eponine stood over him with her hands on her hips. “You had us all scared to death.”

“Relax, Mom, I learned my lesson.” He placed two fingers on his wrist in search of his pulse. “Guys, I don’t feel a pulse.”

“Turn your hand over, you idiot.” Combeferre showed him and check his pulse for him.

“Explanation needed right now.” Eponine insisted.

“Okay.” He finally had caught his breath enough to speak. “Jamie sent me some people’s comments. And then I kept reading over all the comments on the post. One of the dweebs tried to talk shit about my painting, so we got into a fight in the DMs. And I just felt all the insecurities and doubts that I have suppressed for years just boil up.”

“What did I tell you?” Jamie said, rubbing his arm. “Don’t let the haters get you down.”

“But then, there’s this guy…” He pointed to Jamie. “And you are trying to be supportive and… that’s never happened to me before. I’ve never had someone encourage and support me like this. I just don’t know how to handle it.”

“So you tried to take up running?” Combeferre asked.

“Excuse me,” Courfeyrac spoke up. “But I am a very supportive friend. Remember when you wanted to get that buzzcut?”

“You told him that he should do it, because you hated the fact that you both have curly hair,” argued Enjolras.

“Curly hair is my thing, and I stand by that.”

“Everyone out.” Eponine ordered, sensing the important conversation that needed to take place between Grantaire and Jamie.

“What? Why are we being kicked out?” Courfeyrac whined. But Eponine was already pushing everyone into her room.

“They need to have a moment alone, Courf.” She told them, shoving them all roughly.

“R, I would suggest stretching out the hamstrings first.” Combeferre called over her shoulder. “Those are in your legs, by the way.”

The door closed, leaving Jamie and Grantaire alone on the couch. “You freaked out because I was being supportive?” Jamie asked.

R shrugged, but immediately regretted it as pain shot through his torso. “You haven’t met my family, so you don’t know where I came from. But believe it or not, I’m the responsible one. Every time I tried to show off my accomplishments and dreams to my parents, they would laugh and tell me to lower my standards. I once came home to show my mom that I got an A on a book report that I worked really hard on, and she said, and I quote, ‘Sweetie, the world doesn’t need more A’s. Next time shoot for a C, it’s in the middle of the road and that’s exactly where you belong’.”

“That’s terrible.”

“Well, it’s what I know, Jamie.” He tried to sit up a little but sank back into the couch. “I don’t know what supportive and encouraging looks or feels like. It’s why I gave up on painting and focused on cooking.”

“Okay, well, I’m not about to apologize for being supportive, Grantaire.” Jamie said, leaning in closer to him. “You might not know what it looks or feels like before, but now you do. I’m sorry that your family has discouraged you and made you feel inferior, but you aren’t. You are a wonderful, sweet, artistic, and… admittedly complicated guy.”

“That’s a nice way to say ‘damaged’.”

“Stop. You have to stop viewing yourself as damaged goods. And just learn to take a compliment when it comes.”

He turned his head to face him, since it was the only part of his body that he could move without feeling pain. "It’s not going to happen overnight. But I can try. I just… can’t believe you’re into me. Despite all of my flaws.”

Jamie gave him a sympathetic smile. “I have flaws, too.”

“Shut up.”

“No, I do. I’m far from perfect.”

“You are a freaking Instagram model, Jamie. You don’t have to lie to me.”

“I’m a human being. Humans are notoriously flawed. I don’t think wanting to paint makes you a flawed person, nor does having a disappointing family. The truth is, we all have flaws and baggage. It’s probably the one thing we all have in common on this Earth. But here’s one thing that isn’t a flaw. I do like you, Grantaire. Despite all of your flaws.” He leaned in closer and kissed him tenderly.

Grantaire allowed it, before breaking away. “Okay, my body is frozen solid. I’m in so much pain! I think I can see the light!”

>>>

“This one’s for you, Grantaire.” Jamie said. The roommates had come to his rescue and he was now laid out on the couch, covered in ice packs and frozen pea packages (they had run out of ice packs). Everyone was now gathered in the living room, seated on the floor around the couch. Jamie stood in front of them, ready to show one of his “flaws”.

He took a deep breath and chugged a soda can. “Big deal, I can chug soda, too.” Courf scoffed, feeling unimpressed.

Jamie held up a finger and finished the can. He crushed the can and threw it on the ground, which caused Enjolras to flinch. “Careful not to scuff the floor.” He muttered. Jamie then proceeded to burp-sing the song “My Country Tis of Thee”. Everyone in the room stared in awe at him, no one believing someone as good-looking as that could do something so immature and childish. When he finished his song, they all clapped and cheered.

But Courfeyrac was still unimpressed. He stood up and gently pushed the man off to the side. “You think that’s impressive?” He challenged. “Let me show you this.” He then started to break out in a series of break dance moves, including head stands and the worm. When he was done, he smiled brightly and said, “How do you like them apples?”

Everyone then proceeded to throw pillows at him. Grantaire found enough strength to throw a pea package.


	42. Surprises

“Have I asked a lot from you?” Courfeyrac asked the group all gathered around the dining room table.

“Do you mean emotionally or financially?” Enjolras scoffed. “Because the answer to both, is yes.”

“What favor are you trying to get us to do?” Grantaire groaned. “And what laws will it break?”

“Remember when you moved out?” asked Eponine jokingly.

“Wow, okay.” Courfeyrac scoffed and slumped into one of the chairs. “So this is how highly you think of me and Musichetta? Guess we will have to rethink the godparent situation…”

Combeferre made eye contact with Eponine. “Don’t you fall for it.”

Eponine couldn’t help herself. “What is it, Courf?”

He smiled brightly at her. “Thank you, potential godmother of my child. The favor I have to ask you and potential godfathers 1, 2, and 5-”

“Five?” Combeferre questioned, feeling offended. “Who didn’t make the top three?”

“Yet to be determined,” Courf told him. “So step up your game. Anyway, you may or may not know that Musichetta’s birthday is coming up and she’s with child. So I thought it would be great if we could have her birthday party here…”

“What is wrong with your place?” Enjolras asked. “If this is just another excuse to trash the place…”

“Listen, potential godfather number two, and be patient. I thought it would be great if, for her birthday, we could also have a surprise baby shower!” He looked around excitedly. “According to that one annoying teacher at school, who consistently wears the same blouse every day, they did that for her fourth kid and she said it was a blast.” 

“In Marianne’s defense,” Eponine spoke up. “Her house burned down because of a fire that started in her closet.”

“Is that supposed to make me sympathetic?” Courf asked. “It doesn’t. There are such things as thrift stores and donation drives. I can’t keep looking at that same hideous blouse every day.”

“Still don’t know why you want this at our place or why you are telling us?” Enjolras interrupted.

“Because I can’t do it at our place. Her mood swings have subsided, but now she’s crazy paranoid. The other day she was convinced that I bribed the TV station to play reruns of Seinfeld all day because I know how much she hates that show. I think she might rival R in that department.”

“If that is a ploy to try and get me to freak out,” Grantaire set his elbows on the table. “Then just know that I’m onto you and will figure out the real reason why you would say such crazy things.”

“Anyway, I just need to be able to plan and decorate this party without her pregnancy paranoia getting in the way.”

“We would love to. Right, guys?” Eponine looked around at the other roommates.

Combeferre grimaced. “Do we have to?”

“Yes,” Eponine nodded. “It’s all about good karma, right? Do unto others what you would like to have done to you.”

“So you want a baby themed party on your next birthday?” Grantaire questioned.

“If karma does exist, what would I need to do to get laid?” Combeferre slumped back in his chair. “Dating apps have some very slim pickings nowadays.”

“Fine, Courf,” grunted Enjolras. “We can have it here. But I will not be on clean up duty. Just to prove a point, whatever mess this party creates, you will be in charge of cleaning it up.”

“Dude, Chetta is pregnant.” Courf scoffed at him. “You really think I would throw a rager when she can’t drink? We’ll wait until after she’s had the baby for that to happen.”

“Obviously, I’ll be in charge of décor.” Eponine said, thinking aloud. “Courf can be in charge of the guest list and, I suppose, clean up duty. Grantaire, you can figure out the meal plan.”

He rolled his eyes. “I suppose since it’s a baby shower, I will not be allowed to serve alcohol?”

“Look who’s not just a pretty face. You catch on quick, kid.” She joked. Then, she looked over towards Enjolras and Combeferre and thought hard. “And you two… can help with the set up?”

“What, so we’re just the muscles?” Combeferre protested. “We are more than pieces of meat, Eponine.”

Now, Enjolras grimaced. “I would like to protest being referred to as ‘meat’.”

“Do you really want to be in charge of planning a surprise baby shower?” Eponine challenged. “Okay, so would you prefer to help me put glitter on everything or help Grantaire decorate cupcakes?”

Combeferre’s face fell. “I withdraw my complaint.”

>>>

“Why do we have to put this thing together?” Enjolras groaned. He and Eponine were in her room, sitting on the floor with a disassembled baby bouncer in between them. It was the night before the big surprise baby shower and so far Chetta didn’t seem to know about it. Courfeyrac was on strict instructions not to talk about the party, which he nodded and swore by his “power of misdirection and charm”. Needless to say, Eponine was nervous. “Why can’t we just wrap up the box and give them that?”

“Do you really expect Courf to put this thing together successfully?” She questioned. “Remember when he tried to hook up the DVD player? He broke it. The whole thing.”

Enjolras looked over the instructions and huffed. “I suppose you have a point. Okay, it looks like we need to screw together parts A and B.”

Eponine began to sift through the many parts that were scattered on the floor. “Ah-ha!” She said holding up a piece. “I found B.”

He scanned the mess with a furrowed brow. “How am I supposed to find anything in this mess? That’s it.” He set down the instructions on top of her bed. “I’m going to need to alphabetize the parts before we do anything.”

“Really, Enj? Do we really _need_ to alphabetize parts to a baby bouncer?”

“I literally can’t focus until I do this, Eponine, and I don’t think I need to explain myself to you.”

>>>

Meanwhile, Combeferre knocked on Grantaire’s bedroom door. “It’s open.” He called from inside the room.

Combe opened the door to find Grantaire standing and staring at the wall. On the wall was a bunch of yellow post-its and he stared at them like he was a war chief strategizing a battle. “Um, what’s up?” The red-haired man asked, almost scared.

“I’m trying to figure out the flow of how to serve the food tomorrow.” He said, not taking his eyes off the post-its. “Do you think I should start out with the finger sandwiches and then move to the kebabs, or should I switch them? Or should I just go crazy and start with the cheese fondue?”

“Do you mind taking a break from that for a minute?” Combeferre asked. “I could use someone to talk to.”

“Why don’t you go annoy someone else?”

“I already did, but Enjolras yelled at me for interrupting his organization. I think he and Ep trying to build a Lego Death Star or something.” He sat down and looked at the post-its. “Speaking of which, aren’t those Enjolras’ post-it notes?”

“Yeah,” Grantaire smiled, finally taking his eyes away from the wall. “I swiped them from his room the other night.”

“I hope you are prepared for the inevitable fallout that is going to result from that.”

“Oh, I already have the popcorn popped. I hope that vein in his forehead sticks out again.” Grantaire sat on his bed as he spoke. “Okay, man. What’s on your mind?”

Combeferre stood in front of him with his hands on his hips. “Do you think I’m good with women?”

Grantaire stumbled over his words. “I’m… you’re… I mean… I’m not sure how to respond to that.”

He let out a strangled cry. “God, so it is true.”

“Well, what brought this on?”

“As you may recall, I have several different dating apps and that’s basically all the action I’m getting nowadays. And just the other night, I was on this date with one of the girls I matched with, thinking that the night was going great, but she just exploded, saying that I was bad with women and walked out.”

R gave him a confused look. “Okay, what exactly lead up to her exploding on you? And before you answer, did the words, ‘personal best’ pass your lips?”

“Not leading up to that moment, no.” He replied. “But she was trying to tell me that she was having problems with her sister or something. Honestly, I wasn’t really listening. Anyway, she kept talking and talking, and finally, I couldn’t stand it and…”

“You told her to move on to something more interesting?”

Combeferre gave him a guilty look. “Do I say that a lot?”

“Only every day.” He shrugged. “Look, Combe, you realize that the red flag in that conversation was not the ‘move on’ question, but it was the fact that you weren’t listening.”

“Well, what do I care about her sister? It was just a first date and we’d only been messaging for like a day. You don’t dump that kind of crap on a first date. Ugh, why do women have to talk so much?”

“Whoa, so I don’t have to point out how problematic that question is, right?”

He ran a hand through his ginger hair. “So am I going to take a gender studies course, or are you going to help me? For some reason, I’m the only single one in this apartment, despite of the goods I’m packing, and every attempt I have to bed a chick seems to blow up in my face.”

“I think a gender studies course could really benefit you, but we’ll choose to postpone that for now.” Grantaire stood up and gestured for him to take his place on the bed. “Instead, welcome to Grantaire’s Dating Tips Extravaganza, where any old shmuck can learn how to pick up their desired partner in 10 steps or less.”

Combeferre rolled his eyes as he sat. “Can we drop the game show host thing and talk like two bros for once?”

“Okay,” Grantaire lowered his voice and started flexing his muscles. “Yeah, bro, time to talk about chicks and protein shakes and getting hella fit.”

“Maybe I can tear Eponine away…” Combe tried to stand, but R pushed him back down on the bed.

“Nope, too late. You’re my prisoner now.” He decided to drop the “bro” persona and tried to emulate all of his teachers growing up. “Rule #1: Listen when women speak. Asterix on the word ‘listen’, meaning do more than just hear the words coming out of her mouth. Try inserting phrases like, ‘Oh, yeah?’ or ‘That sucks’.”

“But why do I have to listen? What’s wrong with me being bored with their conversation?” 

“Look, dude, the simple answer is women are from Venus and men are from Mars.”

“Cheesy and unoriginal.”

“What I mean is, women and men are way different. Not only are their thought processes different, but their criteria for choosing a mate is just as different as Courfeyrac and Enjolras. For example, what would it take for you to sleep with a complete stranger?”

He sat and thought. “That depends, how hot is she?”

“See?” Grantaire gestured toward him. “Men are very surface-level creatures. We pretty much imagine having sex with everyone we meet. But women don’t work like that. They need more than just looks. As someone who has sampled from both entrees, I can say for a fact that women definitely require more foreplay than men, as a general statement. And foreplay to women means conversation. If you lend an ear and hang, she’ll probably want to bang.”

“Can I borrow some of those post-its? I feel like I should be taking notes.”

>>>

“How did we put B on backwards?” Enjolras shouted, feeling his face turning red. They had been working on the baby bouncer for what seemed like days. After he had taken the time to alphabetize the parts, Eponine was the one reading the instructions and dictating what to do.

“I don’t know.” Eponine sighed, feeling just as frustrated. She showed him the booklet. “See this butthole looking thing? It’s supposed to connect to the arm thing we just made with R and T.”

“But that means I’m going to have to undo most of what we built and basically start over.” He slammed the parts on the ground. “You should have told me that I was putting it on wrong when we started.”

Eponine shot him a look. “Well, maybe if we hadn’t spent 20 minutes organizing the parts in the beginning, I would have taken the time to really look over the instructions.”

“You rushed through the instructions?” He gasped. “Well, that explains why we did everything wrong.”

“It didn’t seem that hard to figure out. Amazon said it was a very easy assembly.”

Enjolras stood up and started to pace the room. “Of course, Jeff Bezos would sell it as easy assembly. I bet he doesn’t even put his own sandwiches together. He just pays someone to do that.”

“Okay, you only start cursing out rich CEOs when you’re angry.” Eponine sighed. “Why don’t we take a break and…”

“Of course, I’m angry, Eponine.” He stopped facing and turned to face her. “It’s because I have been wrestling plastic together for the past hour while you haven’t been following the directions.”

“Oh, my god. Why are you acting like I went against the Bible or something?”

“They include instructions for a reason. It’s not just to include some light reading while you shoot from the hip.”

Now, Eponine was standing, placing her hands on her hips. “Enjolras, stop being such a stick in the mud. I know you have this insane need to follow the rules all the time, but you do not get to yell at me because I wasn’t studying the instructions close enough.”

“I’m not yelling,” He took this moment to try and catch his breath. “I just really wish you would have read the instructions.”

“Oh, my god! You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m not ridiculous, Eponine, but I am tired of you just guessing your way through life.”

“Good lord, so now because I didn’t read your precious instructions, I’m a loose canon?”

“If you remember when we were making cookies for the bake sale at your school, you chose not to follow the recipe…”

Eponine rolled her eyes and sank down on the bed behind her. “For the last time, teaspoon and tablespoon look similar on paper. TSP vs TBSP, that’s too close together. Anyone could have made that mistake.”

“Not someone who was closely following the recipe.” He retorted before he could stop himself. He knew he was picking a fight, but they were too far into it to stop.

Eponine set her jaw and raised an eyebrow. “Okay, Mr. Black and White, how about your obsession with always toeing the line? You always have to do things according to the rules. You can’t cross the street unless you see a light telling you that you can cross.”

“That’s called jaywalking and it is a crime.”

“Not every street has the ‘walk’ light on it. We had to take the long way to walk to that restaurant, because you didn’t see the oh-so important light and it caused me to break a heel. And you realize that literally everyone in the world jaywalks all of the time.”

“I’m not going to apologize for being a good citizen. It not only keeps me safe, but the drivers of America safe. There are rules for a reason, and I will not be shamed for following them.”

Eponine cradled her face in her hands. “Ugh, why are we fighting right now? This is so stupid. Let’s just go get a smoothie or something and come back to this hellish contraption later.” She kicked at the pile on the floor for emphasis.

He sighed and forced himself to chuckle a little. “It’s so funny how something intended for children causes the adults so much agony. Hopefully, by the time you have your own kids, they will have simplified the process.”

She cocked her head to the side. “Um, did you say when _I_ have my own kids? Why are you saying that like you aren’t included in that?”

Enjolras’ face dropped. “Are you… are you saying you… want to have kids with me?”

“Well, obviously not right now, but I would like to think that’s in our future.”

“Our future?” He started to feel himself break out in a cold sweat. “You think about our future?”

“Of course, I think about our future, Enjolras. Don’t you?”

“I mean, I do, but only on a month-to-month basis. You realize we’ve only been together for six months?”

“Yeah, and we’ve said ‘I love you’ to each other, so what’s the next step in a relationship?”

“I would think it’s moving in together, not having children.”

Eponine rolled her eyes. “Well, the last time we tried to talk about moving in together, it practically started a civil war in the living room.”

“So you think we’ll go straight to having kids?”

>>>

“Okay, she’s on her way.” Combeferre looked down at his phone. After learning all of the tips from Grantaire, they had set up a “trial-run” with a girl he matched with on one of the dating apps. Combeferre had learned quite a bit in a short amount of time but was feeling really nervous. “Are you sure I’m ready for this?”

Grantaire placed his hands on his friend’s shoulder. “You never know until you try. It’s time to throw you in the deep end and hope you swim.”

“Is that how you learned how to swim?”

“Maybe. But the point is, you are going to try out all of your new skills when it comes to wooing women. Now, what are you going to do when she gets here?”

He sighed. “Ask her about the drive over here and if that doesn’t work, ask about her day.”

“Right, and we are going to…”

“Listen without judgement. What if I start to slip back into my problematic ways?”

“Dude, you talk with women all the time at your job.” Grantaire tried to encourage him.

“Yeah, but I’m a personal trainer. I literally get paid to yell at women all day.”

“Okay, tell you what. If you run out of ideas, or you feel yourself backsliding, send me a text. I’ll do my best to listen in and offer advice when you need it.”

Combeferre nodded and let out a breath, shaking his hands nervously. “Why am I so nervous? I haven’t been this nervous to meet a girl since middle school.”

“Okay, well, why don’t we do a dry run?” Grantaire took a couple steps back. “I’ll be whats-her-name, and you give me your best shot.”

“There’s something about this that seems problematic.” He shook his head.

“Oh, hi, Combeferre.” R said in a high-pitched voice. “Nice place you got here.”

“Yeah, I’m going to wait in my room.”

“Why are you leaving me here all alone, Combie?” He asked in his high-pitched voice. “I want to lay one on you.”

“Screw you, bro.”

>>>

“So we’re going to push gender roles on our hypothetical children?” Eponine asked. The conversation had definitely veered off the path just a bit. “The boys will be the only ones to play sports? What about our daughters?”

“Daughters? Plural?” Enjolras’ face was not hiding his panic well.

“Look, Enjolras, this is ridiculous. I mean, we’re talking about something that hasn’t happened yet. Can we please just finish putting this damn bouncer together?” She said, feeling exhausted.

“Fine.” He huffed, taking a hold of the instructions. “So you need to make sure that B is on the other way.”

She took ahold of the half-made contraption. With a grunt, she tried to untwist it, but was unsuccessful. “God, how tight did you screw this thing on? Did you happen to use super glue?”

He held out his hand. “Here, let me do it.”

“No,” She twisted her hands away from him. “I can do it, just give me a minute.”

“You don’t have to be so stubborn, Eponine. I’m the one who put it together so I can take it apart.”

“If I do, will you let me be in charge of the instructions again?” She glared at him.

That made him throw the booklet down on the ground. “That’s it. I need to leave this room before I scream.” He stormed over to the door, where he found Grantaire standing there with his hand raised, poised and ready to knock.

“Oh, hey, guys.” R jumped back a little. He definitely wasn’t expecting for the door open just then. “Ep, I was wondering if you happen to have wigs or some cutesy dress I could borrow. I need it to help Combeferre.” Enjolras shoved past him and steamed his way to his room, being sure to slam the door behind him. “Whoa, what’s eating him? You guys still building the Death Star?”

>>>

“Welcome and thank you for coming.” Courfeyrac greeted Cosette and Marius filing into the apartment. “Please place your gifts on the table over there and enjoy the appetizers set up in the kitchen.”

It was the day of the big party and Courf was practically vibrating with excitement. He was so excited that he didn’t notice the near tangible tension amongst the roommates. Enjolras and Eponine were still upset about the whole baby bouncer incident. Combeferre was mad at Grantaire, because just as his date arrived, that was when Grantaire decided to enter the room in a wig acting like he was Combeferre’s date. After she stormed off, Combeferre scolded him for costing him a potential partner. It was a very tense morning. But they were all trying to do their best to be hospitable to the guests as they arrived. 

Cosette placed her wrapped gift on the dining room table and greeted Eponine with a smile. “Hey, do you happen to know if Chetta already owns the book What To Expect When You’re Expecting? Because I brought a back up gift just in case.”

Eponine shrugged. “I don’t really know. Hey, Marius.”

“Hello, Eponine.” He smiled at her. “I trust that you were in charge of the decorations.” He looked around to see all of the streamers and balloons. Since she didn’t know the gender of the baby, and because assigning color to a gender always seemed funny to her, everything was rainbow colored. “Very colorful, I must say.”

“Thank you,” She smiled. Then, she looked down at her phone. “Courf, is Chetta on her way?”

“Yes, she is.” He bounced over to her. “Can you believe my beautiful bride-to-be is going to be 30? She doesn’t look a day over 29.”

“Maybe don’t focus too much on the age thing today, bud.” She offered slapping him on the shoulder. Then, she walked over to Enjolras, who was pouring punch into glasses for the guests. Even though they hadn’t talked since last night, she felt like she needed to extend some sort of olive branch to him. “Hey.”

He looked at her, but didn’t say anything. Mostly because he was unsure of what to say.

“I’m sorry about yesterday.” She offered gently. “I guess I was just frustrated with that stupid piece of garbage and your overwhelming need to follow the directions…”

“Unbelievable.” He said, nearly slamming the ladle down into the bowl, causing a minor splash. Some of the punch got on his shirt, which caused him to curse under his breath. “Now look what you made me do.” He spat at her, while dabbing at the spot on his torso with a napkin.

“Are you serious right now?” She asked, feeling a new wave of disappointment and anger wash over her. “You were the one who just splashed yourself. I was trying to bury the hatchet with you, but now I see all you want to do is keep fighting.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m going to go change shirts.” He huffed away, leaving Eponine to inhale deeply and stare out the window.

“Okay, the suspense is killing me.” Courf announced to the room. “I’m going to go wait down in the lobby for her. Everyone, be ready.” He practically skipped out the door like he was walking down the yellow brick road.

Marius took up a conversation with Grantaire, which gave Cosette an opening to talk with Eponine privately. She had seen the minor spat they had just had. “Hey, what’s up with you and your boo?” She asked, gently tapping on her friend’s arm.

Eponine tore her gaze from out the window to look at her friend, as if she was just coming out of a trance. “Huh?”

“There’s visible tension between you and Enjolras. What happened?”

Eponine went on to explain the fight she and Enjolras had the night before. “And it was all just so stupid.” She huffed as she finished. “I mean, sometimes I wonder how we ended up together in the first place. We’re so different.”

“Well, sometimes, opposites attract.” Cosette offered.

“But it just seems like we’re polar opposites. We hardly ever agree on anything. He’s such a staunch stickler for the rules, and I’m way more of a laid-back, go with the flow kind of person. He likes to watch dramas and serious films, but I like comedies and family-friendly films. He doesn’t want pets and freaks out when anyone mentions the word ‘baby’ around him. And get this: every month he cleans out his drawers in his dresser so he can clean them. His drawers, Cosette. Not only that but while he cleans the drawers, he will wash the clothes that were in said drawers. Who washes clothes they haven’t worn yet? Why did I ever agree to go out with this guy?”

Cosette listened patiently. “Okay, what you are experiencing right now, believe it or not, is normal. Every couple has the differences. For instance, Marius does not like any of his food to touch each other. He will straight up not eat something if it has touched other food. Sometimes, his plate looks like a pie chart. But does that mean that I don’t love him? Of course not.”

Eponine sighed and leaned against the wall behind them. “But when we were talking about our future, even our parenting philosophies were so different. Honestly, Cosette… I don’t know if we have much of a future together.”

Cosette looked at her friend, her big blue eyes seemingly growing wider at the confession.

“Here she is!” Courfeyrac opened the door at that point, gesturing Musichetta inside.

“Surprise!” shouted the guests.

Chetta took a look around and instantly punched Courfeyrac in the arm. “I fucking knew you were planning something behind my back!” She screamed at him furiously. “How dare you.”

Everyone stood, feeling awkward and too afraid to speak.

“Happy 30th, Chetta!” Grantaire cheered as he presented her with her cake that had the words, “Congrats on being super old!” written on it.

She shot him a wild and angry look. "Who told you I was turning 30? Who? Just point them out and I'll squeeze their necks until their eyes bulge out." 

Again, no one dared to move or even breathe. Enjolras exited his room at that moment, having put on a clean shirt. Once he saw Musichetta, he grinned and said, "Happy birthday, Chetta." 


	43. Fixers

The birthday party/baby shower was going well… in a manner of speaking. Musichetta calmed down some when her parents finally made it. Enjolras and Eponine kept their distance from each other, but still were pleasant to the guests. Combeferre had forgotten about his anger towards Grantaire when he found out Musichetta had a hot sister. She was a year older than Chetta and possessed all of the family curves. Combe was following her around like he was tied to her.

Joly had volunteered to help Grantaire with the food, and get all of the latest gossip. “So, what’s the problem with Enjolras and Eponine?” He asked him as they cut into the cake. “Last time I saw them, they were practically attached at the hip. Now they are avoiding each other like last year’s Christmas pudding.”

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “You damn Brit, why can’t you talk normally?”

“A quick history lesson, you came from us.”

“Excuse me, but America is the great Melting Pot of the world.” R waved the knife in the air as he spoke. “We came from all over.”

Joly smiled. “Okay, but really, what’s up with them?”

“I don’t know. They’ve been like this all day. My money is on Eponine tried to reorganize his pen collection.”

“What are you two hens clucking about?” Cosette had slunk away from Chetta opening her presents in the living room for a head start on the cake. There was only so many times she could watch Musichetta open presents and instantly burst into tears.

“Please tell me that you have the scoop on our feuding love birds?” Joly asked hopefully.

“And before you say anything, does it have anything to do with pens and/or stationary?” Grantaire mirrored Joly, as they both leaned towards her with mischievous grins on their faces.

Cosette mimed zipping up her lips. “I am not one to air out someone’s dirty laundry for everyone to see.”

Joly nudged R in the shoulder. “And you say the Brits talk abnormally?”

“Don’t be such a goodie-goodie.” Grantaire pressed, purposefully moving a plate of cake away from the blonde woman’s reach. “Cake is for those that share.”

She rolled her eyes and folded her arms, acting indifferent. “Fine, I don’t need cake. I once went on a no-sugar diet for a week to prepare for a swimsuit ad. I have nerves of steel.”

“Mad respect.” Grantaire offered her a fist bump.

Joly was not so easily swayed. He stamped his foot on the ground and whined. “Oh, come on. I need some juicy gossip. Musichetta would always come home with loads of it and now that she’s moved out, I feel starved.”

“Well, what about you?” Cosette countered as she leaned her elbows against the island. “Do you have any new beaus in your life?”

“Oh, good point.” Grantaire gestured toward her and pivoted towards their British friend. “Wasn’t there this dude you had on retainer or something?”

“It was a friends with benefits thing, thank you,” He defended. “And yes, I am still currently in the middle of one such relationship.”

“I knew it.” Cosette squealed. “You had a certain glow about you.”

“Look, it’s not like we’re in love or anything. But he, uh… might have moved in with me…”

“Mega juicy.” Now it was Grantaire’s turn to squeal. “Sharing an apartment with your boo thang, that’s actually brilliant. And very convenient. As someone who enjoys being lazy, I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.”

“It’s not juicy, Grantaire,” He insisted. “Because it is nothing serious. It’s just a casual thing.”

“Why didn’t you bring him?”

Joly scoffed. “Because Chetta doesn’t know him and going to a stranger’s baby shower isn’t exactly an ideal date.”

Courfeyrac came over at that point practically panting. “R, I need that cake, stat.”

“Whoa, where’s the fire, Courf?” He joked, as he pushed a plate towards his friend.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” He tried to smile to cover his internal panic. “It’s just that the mother of my child and future bride is acting like a mega diva that would put Mariah Carey to shame. I can’t keep up with all of these emotions and Enjolras and Eponine are fighting…”

“Wait, how do you know?” Cosette questioned.

“May I remind your perfectly formed ears that I am a child of divorce. I can smell a fighting couple from a mile away.”

“Smell?” Joly grimaced.

“It is not helping the vibe of the party. Not to mention, Chetta’s mother keeps making passive aggressive remarks at me. So, needles to say…” Courfeyrac scooped the cake up with his hands and shoved half of it into his mouth. “I’m freaking out.” He said with a mouthful of cake.

“Okay, calm down.” Cosette patted him on the shoulder. “You don’t want to overdo it on cake.”

“Yeah, that is one slippery slope, my friend.” Grantaire added. “Speaking from experience, it always starts out as cake, but then the next thing you know, you’re shoving hot pockets in your face in between your eighteenth and nineteenth beer and ruining your neighbor’s quinceañera.”

“Wow, your life is so sad.” Cosette shook her head at him.

“Look, Courfeyrac,” Joly spoke up, seeing the crazed look in his eye. “You go deliver cake to Musichetta and keep her happy. We’ll take care everything.”

“We will?” R slapped him on the arm.

“Oh, thanks, guys.” Courfeyrac said after swallowing the large bite of cake in his mouth. “By the way, R, you have simply outdone yourself on this cake. Just the right amount of moisture.” He took another plate and swiveled away, pretty much running to his girlfriend’s side.

Cosette made a face towards the other two. “Why is it that whenever he says the word ‘moisture’, it leaves a bad taste in my mouth?”

“Why in the hell did you say that we would take care of things?” R scolded Joly. “We’re not fixers. Eponine is the fixer in this house. If we fix things, that means that we will upset the balance in the universe. Next thing you know, Enjolras will be the one with a drinking problem and bad credit.”

“You saw the man.” Joly argued. “He’s practically falling apart. And judging from the look on Musichetta’s face, I would say that we are one pair of baby shoes away from her stabbing her own mum.”

“Joly is right, R. We have to do something.” Cosette nodded.

“Okay, but we do realize that Enjolras and Eponine are some of the most stubborn people alive.” R pointed out. “Case in point, Enjolras still refuses to get a Twitter account, because, and I quote, ‘no one needs to know my business’ and Eponine has been driving the same car since college even though it is basically one break-down away from being a Flintstone car.”

She smiled wickedly and raised an eyebrow as an idea struck her. “Why don’t we just do what we did last time?”

>>>

“Why is your solution to every problem to lock someone in a room?” Enjolras huffed as he was shoved in the bathroom. Cosette had already trapped Eponine in there, and Joly and Grantaire had practically dragged the blonde by his arms. Luckily, the party had become consumed by the spread of food that Grantaire had crafted that hardly anyone noticed. Combeferre still refused to leave Musichetta’s sister alone.

“Oh, my god, you guys.” Eponine rolled her eyes when Enjolras stumbled into the room. “We are not doing this again.”

“No, we are doing this again.” Grantaire said in an authoritative tone. Even his posture was upright. “So shut up. Now this is supposed to be Musichetta’s day, but it’s not because Courf is freaked out. And Courf is freaked out because she’s freaking out and because everyone knows that you two are fighting.”

“You’re exaggerating.” Enjolras said, crossing his arms.

“No, there is visible tension between you two.” Cosette spoke up. “For instance, you two are purposefully turned away from each other right now.” She gestured to them, pointing out that their backs were to each other.

Eponine then turned slightly and stuck her chin up in the air. “That’s just coincidence.”

“Alright, stop.” Joly ordered. “You two are having problems and you need to fix them. We all need to help Courf and Chetta calm down and we can’t do that without your help. But it won’t help anything if you two are arguing amongst yourselves. Now, you both need to stop being such stubborn arseholes and get your house in order.”

The two of them were clearly influenced by his stern tone, which was mostly influenced by the British accent. “Well, do we really need an audience for this conversation?” Enjolras said, gesturing to the three other bodies in the room.

“And why the bathroom?” Eponine asked. “Why not literally any other room in the house?”

“This was the one neutral space with the least amount of deadly weapons.” Grantaire explained.

“You realize that my razor is literally two steps away?” Enjolras gestured to the sink.

“We really need to meet new people.” Eponine shook her head.

“Stop stalling.” Joly commanded again. “Now, tell us what the problem is.”

“That is none of your business, you redcoat.” He retorted.

“It’s just this stupid baby bouncer.” Eponine grunted, staring up at the ceiling.

Enjolras finally turned towards her. “Seriously, Eponine?”

“Look, they’re right. Courf is falling apart and you know how sensitive he is to couples fighting. It’s why he can’t watch movies with Rachel McAdams in it.”

“That’s what this is all about?” Grantaire asked incredulously. “A stupid baby thing?”

“It’s not stupid.” Enjolras protested. “That baby bouncer is unnecessarily complicated. I’m pretty sure that it was manufactured by M.C. Escher.”

“We just got into this huge fight because _this guy_ is such a rule follower.” Eponine pointed to him as she spoke.

He set his jaw. In the harsh light of the bathroom, a visible wild look glinted in his eye. “ _You_ were the one who didn’t read the directions, Eponine, and _you_ caused us to have to start over.”

“I am both surprised and not surprised that this is the cause of your problem.” Grantaire shook his head.

Eponine carried on as if the other members in the room weren’t there. “For last time, it was marketed as easy assembly and after you spent a half an hour alphabetizing the parts, I thought we could pretty much figure it out from there.”

“Hence, why we had to start over.”

“God, I wish I brought a snack in here.” R muttered to himself with a smile. This was the reason why he watched reality tv, so he could get a front row seat to two people fighting. He just wished someone would splash their drink in someone’s face.

“You guys are mad because you were frustrated by building something for a child?” Joly asked.

“It’s not just the baby bouncer, Joly.” Eponine now gaining a wild look in her eye as well. “It’s the fact that we have such different philosophies on life in general. He is so… black and white. Like who else would have a drawer full of pocket squares? You don’t even wear pocket squares.”

The blonde man put his hands on his hips. “Excuse me, but you own more yarn than a hobby store. And you don’t even know how to knit.”

“Not technically speaking, no. But I’ve watched enough old ladies in the park do it to try my hand at it.”

“You think you can just pick up a couple of needles and just feel your way through it?! At least I know how to use a pocket square.”

“Are you sure? They didn’t come with directions.” Eponine sneered.

Cosette finally had enough. “Okay, this is ridiculous.” She stepped in between them. “I’m getting bored of this now. Of course, you two are polar opposites. I can’t believe it took you this long to realize it.”

“Yeah, on paper, this never made sense to me.” R spoke up. “I mean, Eponine is all artsy and creative and loves musicals.”

“So do you, dummy.” Eponine retorted.

He scoffed. “My palette is much more sophisticated than yours, thank you very much. You like anything with music, but my taste is almost exclusively Sondheim and you know it.”

“I think the point we are trying to make here,” Joly nudged Grantaire in the side. “Is that every couple has their differences.”

“Yeah, but it almost seems like we’re too different.” Eponine faced Enjolras again. “This baby bouncer isn’t the only thing we’ve disagreed about. It seems like every topic that comes up, either one of us has a strong opinion and refuses to compromise. And honestly… I question why we started dating in the first place.”

“If I remember correctly, it was because you’re both hot as hell.” Grantaire offered.

Just then, Courfeyrac burst into the bathroom, making everyone jump at the sound. He was just as surprised as everyone else and yelped as he looked around. “What the hell, guys? Why are you all meeting in the bathroom?”

“We were having orgy.” Grantaire joked sarcastically.

“Don’t you dare joke about that.” Courf pointed aggressively at him. “You know that is my dream situation.”

He sniffled slightly, and that was when everyone noticed that there were tears in his eyes. “Oh, my god, Courf.” Eponine went up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, forgetting all of the drama that happened previously. “Are you crying?”

“I am not crying, Eponine.” He said, pushing her away and wiping his eyes quickly. “I just accidentally splashed some punch in my eyes.”

“Did Chetta’s mom say something passive again?” Joly asked, almost knowing the answer.

He tried to put on a brave face, before the tears returned again. “Yeah, man. She told me that my shirt was ‘just fine’. I mean, this is a Ralph Lauren, for crying out loud. Like I would ever put clothing that was ‘just fine’ on my body.” He collapsed into Eponine’s shoulder. “Guys, I can’t do this anymore. Her mom is so vicious, but in a subtle way, much like Hannibal Lecter, and Chetta is so emotional right now. I just don’t know what to do. All I wanted was to have a fun day that honored the most beautiful and perfect woman that has ever lived, no offense Cosette, and it’s all just falling apart.”

All of the friends looked around at each other, exchanging glances. Eponine and Enjolras’ gaze lingered on each other. In that brief instance, they were both reminded of when they realized that they had feelings for each other. When they knew that they loved one another. When they first met. They were also reminded of how much they cared for their roommates, despite Enjolras’ better judgement. “Don’t worry, Courf.” She told him, as she patted his head gently and swayed him back and forth. “We’ll take care of it.”

“You will?” He lifted his head and smiled brightly.

“Absolutely.” Enjolras nodded.

“Not to burst everyone’s bubble,” Grantaire said, placing his hands on his hips. “But how exactly are we going to ‘take care’ of this situation? Chetta has turned into a monster and is the center of the issue. Under normal circumstances, I would offer her a beer, but I feel like that’s a bad call.”

“Joly, what would you do to cheer her up whenever she felt down?” Cosette asked him.

He shrugged. “She isn’t normally that public with her emotions. But sometimes, like when she went through a breakup, she would be upset. So we either went to the junkyard to smash old cars with a baseball bat…”

“I like the sound of that.” Grantaire smiled.

“Or we would listen to hip hop and dance like no one was watching.” Joly grinned at the memory.

Enjolras closed his eyes as an idea struck him. He had an internal debate on whether or not to say anything, but the words came out before he could stop them. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I think I have an idea.” He glanced at Courfeyrac and Grantaire. “Do you guys remember the dorm talent show junior year?”

“Oh, no.” Grantaire groaned and rubbed his face at the memory.

“Oh, yes! How could I ever forget?” Courf smiled even wider, no longer feeling blue.

“What is happening?” Eponine asked, giving the guys an inquisitive look.

“Let’s just say that,” Grantaire placed a hand on her shoulder. “What you are about to witness is not going to put us in a very attractive light.”

>>>

Enjolras, Courfeyrac, and Grantaire stood in front of the party with their backs facing out. They had forced Combeferre into their performance, by promising that Grantaire would allow him to be his personal trainer for one session. Joly sat next to Musichetta on the couch, holding his phone in his hand. He was put in charge of being the “DJ” which just meant he was to push play when Combeferre pointed him. Musichetta’s mom was sat next to Eponine and Cosette, who were told to talk Courfeyrac up. Everyone in the party was clearly very weirded out by the random performance.

“I hope the roof caves in on us right now.” Grantaire mumbled. Though, he was happy that he had convinced the guys to take a couple shots before the performance to “get them loose”.

“This one goes out to all the pretty ladies in the audience.” Combeferre recited, remembering their original performance back in college. Of course, back then, they were performing to an auditorium full of sorority pledges and art students. He flashed a wink at Chetta’s sister, Rebecca, and then pointed to Joly.

He pressed play and the three boys snapped their fingers along to the simple bass notes being repeated. Combeferre popped the collar of his button-up shirt and adopted a “swagger” that made Eponine swallow a giggle. “Yo, VIP, let’s kick it.” He said. Suddenly, everyone knew what was happening. They were rapping along to the Vanilla Ice classic, “Ice Ice Baby”, a very influential song in the four guys’ youth. Musichetta’s jaw was resting in her lap. “Alright, stop,” Combeferre rapped. “Collaborate and listen.” When he said, “listen”, the three boys behind him finally turned around and started sporting their own unique dance moves as Combeferre continued his rap. “Ice is back with a brand new invention…” Combeferre continued to rap the entire first verse, as everyone watched in stunned silence.

When it got to the “Ice Ice Baby” hook, Combeferre melted back in line with the three others and they all did their best impressions of the moves from the music video. Eponine covered her mouth to hide her wide smile. Cosette was unashamedly laughing, while Marius was frozen solid.

Grantaire took the second verse at first, but Courf joined in halfway and they did a duet for the rest of the verse. Courfeyrac would point to Musichetta and show off his break dancing moves whenever he could. Chetta’s mom at one point said, “Oh, my.” Though it was hard to gauge how exactly she meant it.

“I have no words.” Eponine told her, holding her hands up in surrender.

The third verse was tag-teamed by Enjolras and Combeferre. Eponine watched as her boyfriend adopted a persona that was not often seen by people outside of their friend group and while mostly sober. He danced and made animated gestures to emphasize the lyrics. Combeferre would play off him and add his own flavor. Eponine could feel her anger towards Enjolras disappear. Suddenly, she could remember why she fell for him in the first place. Here he was, making a complete ass of himself, for the sake of his friend’s happiness. He was showing his fun side.

When they ended the song, the room erupted with applause and hooting and hollering. Cosette and Eponine rose to their feet to give them a standing ovation. Musichetta slowly made her way towards Courfeyrac and placed a very loving kiss on his lips.

“We did it.” Grantaire beamed, wrapping his arm around Enjolras’ shoulders.

He quickly brushed off his arm with a huff. “Do not push your luck.”

“I must say,” The sound of Chetta’s mom’s voice cut through the celebration. Everyone stopped and turned to face her. She slowly rose from the couch, her face unreadable. “I have never seen anyone perform an entire dance routine for my daughter before.”

“It’s not really a dance routine, as it is a hip-hop fusion…ow!” Combeferre tried to explain but was cut off by Grantaire slapping him in the arm.

“I was on the fence about you, Gaston.” Her mom continued, her face still unreadable. “When we first met, you wore a tuxedo to Starbucks.”

“Told you.” Enjolras seethed at him, remembering when he tried to talk him out of it.

“Mom, stop.” Musichetta spoke up. “I don’t care if you don’t like him. I know that he has his many, many flaws, but…”

“I am not finished, young lady.” She said, bearing her green eyes down on her daughter. “I’ve always been protective of you, ever since you came to live with us. I will not apologize for that. But if this man is who you choose to raise a family with… then I couldn’t be prouder of you. Any man who works this hard to make you happy is alright in my book.” Finally, she smiled widely, which caused her daughter to give her a tearful hug. Courfeyrac hesitated before also embracing the two women.

Again, everyone cheered and clapped. “I think this is as good of time as any to announce that it is cocktail hour.” Grantaire stepped towards the kitchen as he spoke. “Both alcoholic and…” He shuddered before continuing. “Non-alcoholic beverages are being served right now. Come on!” The party slowly started to gather around in the kitchen, still buzzing about the performance.

Enjolras brought up the rear but was stopped by a tap on his shoulder. He turned and saw Eponine standing there. When the hubbub around Chetta and her mother was going on, she slipped into her room, unseen by the rest of the party. Now, she stood before him, gesturing to the completely put-together baby bouncer. His eyes went wide at the sight of it. “Oh, my god. You did it.”

She smiled and shrugged. “Yeah, well, you can’t show up to a party and not bring a gift.”

“But how?”

“I read the directions.” She stated, looking him dead in the eye. “Actually, the more accurate statement is, I watched a YouTube video to help explain the directions. Last night when you walked out, I might have tinkered with it a bit.”

He stared at her in amazement. “Why?”

Eponine shuffled her feet for a second before continuing. “At first, I wanted to prove that following the directions weren’t as easy as you claimed they were. Turns out I was right, but don’t worry, I’ve already left a very strongly worded review on Amazon.” She chuckled a little. “And then, after I saw you fully embody Vanilla Ice,” He blushed as she said that. “I realized that we were being… no, I was being stubborn. It’s not always so bad to follow the directions.”

“Well, I realize that it’s not always so bad to improvise.” He offered. “Most of that routine was improvised by the way.”

“What? No way.” She smiled but shook her head.

“No, it’s true. We spent most of our ‘rehearsals’, if you could even call them that, focusing on memorizing the lyrics. By the time we had to perform it, we had little to no choreography planned. So, we just took a few shots and did whatever felt natural.” He allowed himself to smile for the first time that day. “Full disclosure, when we last performed that, we had hoped it would attract girls.”

“Did it work?”

“Well, you saw it. What do you think?”

She chuckled, but then reached out and hugged him close. He held her close to him and they stood there holding the embrace for a moment, just happy to be near each other again. Eponine always felt safe in his arms, like the whole building could collapse but he would make sure she was unharmed. Enjolras felt secure when holding her. “I know that we have our differences.” He said, as they pulled apart enough to look at each other, but not stop touching. “And I know that I can be stubborn arsehole sometimes.”

Eponine laughed, causing Enjolras to smile. He always thought she looked the most beautiful when she was laughing. “I mean, I can be kind of a stubborn arsehole too.” She admitted after finding her breath.

He raised a teasing eyebrow. “But not as much as me.”

“Shut up,” She couldn’t stand it anymore. She grabbed his face and pulled it to hers. They both really needed this kiss more than either of them realized. It was a lovely moment. Until.

“Mom and Dad are back together!” They broke apart to see Courfeyrac bounding over to them, with a joyful look on his face.

“Courf, you know I don’t like it when you call me ‘Dad’.” Enjolras rolled his eyes at him.

“Whatever you say, Pops. Bring it in!” He threw his arms around the two of them and hugged them tightly. “Oh, I am so happy right now, I could burst.”

“Wait, we’re having a roomie group hug?” Combeferre poked his head in and threw his arms around the group.

“Why are you doing this?” Enjolras grunted as he tried to get out of the huddle.

“Oh, my god.” Grantaire gasped as he looked over the group, holding his hands over his heart. “Look at this beautiful moment of public affection. I want to join in, too!” He skipped over to them and joined the group hug.

“Okay, joke is over now.” Enjolras pushed his way out of the group finally. “Just take a picture next time, why don’t you.”

“Um, how about a video recording of your little performance?” Joly held up his phone with a mischievous smile.

“Oh, my god, you are a genius!” Eponine jumped excitedly and ran over to him to try and watch the video again.

“You recorded it?” Grantaire gasped.

“You will delete that video this instant.” Enjolras ordered, stomping over to them, but was blocked by Combeferre.

“Did you guys hear that?” Combeferre looked around the room with a teasing look in his eye. “Did he say that he wanted us to upload it on social media?”

“No!” The blonde barked, trying to wrestle his way past Combeferre.

“Yes, he did!” Courfeyrac grinned widely. “Joly, will you please do the honors?”

“Oh, don’t worry.” He waved a hand. “I already did. And you guys already have 20 views. Enjolras, someone left a comment saying that your dancing looks like you have junk in your trunk and I’m not exactly sure what that means.”

Everyone fell apart into giggles at that comment and pointed at him in a teasing way. The blonde pinched the bridge of his nose. “R, I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I need a drink.”


	44. Tried and True

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Wow, I have been so overwhelmed by how much love you have been giving this little idea of mine. The amount of support you have all been giving me through this terrible writing block has been very encouraging. I have listened and read all of the feedback and am feeling ideas starting flow again. I don't know how often I can update this story, but I will try my best to make it often enough. Huge thanks again to all of you lovely and fine people! Keep those comments and kudos coming! I love you all!

“And in conclusion, as the evidence has proven time and time again, and as the eye-witness testimonies clearly depict, the man in question consistently abused his position of power to exploit his employees and use his employees to cover up his transgressions. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the time is now, for you to decide. Now you have the position of power. The question is: how are you going to use that power? Will you do what Mr. Dayton did and abuse it and allow him to walk out of this courtroom to see another day of corrupt behavior? Or will you use your power to tell this man that his reign of terror is over? The choice is yours, ladies and gentlemen.” Enjolras took a deep breath and looked at Courfeyrac and Grantaire. They were both sitting on the couch (of course, Grantaire had a beer in his hand) listening to Enjolras practice his closing argument to one of the cases he was working on. “Well? What do you think?” He asked, reorganizing his index cards he was reading off of.

Courf raised up two fingers. “Two things: One, do you realize that you sway back and forth on your feet a lot? And two, are you going to be wearing that blazer during the trial? Because I would like to strongly advise against it.” He gestured to the blazer in question, turning his nose up at it.

Enjolras rolled his eyes and placed his hands on his hips. “What is wrong with this blazer and how is that relevant?”

“Your sleeves are about an eighth of an inch too short.” Courf stood up and tried to tug down on the sleeves. “You want the jury to take you seriously, don’t you? Well, they’re not going to do that with a disastrous sleeve like this?”

The blonde pushed him away and huffed through his nose. “Dude, I asked you to listen and give me notes. This is a very important case. Did you even listen?”

“How could I when you look like you’re wearing a child’s jacket?” He defended.

“Well, I was actually listening.” Grantaire sat forward, waving his bottle around. “Actually, I turned it into a drinking game.” Enjolras whipped his head back to stare at the ceiling, contemplating whether or not to commit an act of violence in his own living room. “Yeah, I took a drink every time you said the words ‘corruption’, ‘abuse’, or ‘evidence’. Oh, and when you made gestures like a politician. Side note, you look like Hilary Clinton up there, bro.”

“Okay, never mind.” Enjolras slumped down on the couch, feeling defeated. “I don’t know why I thought you two dummies would actually listen to me or give me constructive criticism.”

“The blazer was an important note,” Courf insisted. “And you will thank me for it. Who’s your tailor? Doesn’t matter anymore because they’re fired immediately. I’ll get you in touch with mine as soon as humanly possible.”

Eponine walked into the apartment at that time, carrying a large tote bag that was overstuffed with art supplies. Her face looked twisted in frustration and exhaustion. The three men looked as she stumbled through the door. Grantaire giggled. “Whoa, Ep, did you buy out an entire craft store?”

“Do you need any help?” Enjolras asked, standing up.

“No, I didn’t.” Eponine looked at Grantaire and then to Enjolras. “And no, I’m fine.” She wobbled over to the dining room table and slammed the large bag down on it. “The fourth graders are going to be starting their papier-mache unit soon and I have to make a couple different examples for them. I also have to compose a school friendly version of ‘Old Town Road’ for the children’s choir.” She giggled maniacally and collapsed onto one of the chairs, resting her head on the table. “I love my job, I love my job, I love my job.” She repeated to herself, her voice muffled.

“I feel ya, girl.” Courfeyrac nodded sympathetically. “I had a meeting with the principal and now I have to write lessons plans. It’s rough.”

“You haven’t been writing lesson plans until now?” Enjolras asked him with a raised and disapproving eyebrow. “You mean you don’t plan anything?”

“I teach eight-year olds how to turn a computer on and off, Enj.” He shrugged. “I didn’t think that planning out my lessons was necessary.”

“I am terrified for the future generations.” Grantaire muttered, as he took a swig from his bottle.

Enjolras rolled his eyes and moved to the kitchen. “Do you want cookies or crackers, Ep?” He asked Eponine. Usually, when she was like this, the best way to cheer her up was with food.

“Oh, I still have some German chocolate cake left in the fridge.” Grantaire offered, remembering when he went on a baking spree a couple of days ago.

“Yes, please,” She muttered, her head was still resting on the table.

“You got it.” Enjolras went about the kitchen to get her some cake.

Combeferre came out of his room, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He looked over at Eponine and made a confused face. “Ep, you good?”

Finally, she lifted up her head, spreading a fake smile across her face, and turning to face him. “Oh, I’m just having my weekly episode where I am questioning my entire career and the American education system as a whole. No biggie.”

Combeferre shook his head. “You know, next time you could just lie and tell me you’re fine.”

“Thanks, Combe,” Eponine said sarcastically. “Your sympathy is overwhelming me.”

He shrugged his shoulders as he made his way to Grantaire. He slapped him on the shoulder. “You ready, man?”

Grantaire jumped up when he was hit on the shoulder in alarm but tripped over his foot and fell to the ground, narrowly avoiding spilling what was left of his beer on the ground. “Ready for what?”

“We have our workout today, remember?” He was referring to when Grantaire persuaded him to join the dance at Musichetta’s birthday party the week before with the promise that he would allow him one personal training session.

“Oh, no,” Grantaire sighed and hung his head, studying the bottle in his hand. “I forgot.”

“That’s like his sixth beer, dude.” Courfeyrac told him, as he found himself making his way to the kitchen. He, too, felt intrigued by the German chocolate cake.

Combe grunted in frustration. “Man, this makes it the third time you’ve bailed on me. You owe me big time. Chetta’s sister couldn’t look me in the eye after that performance. And you know how much I wanted to land that.”

As Eponine booed, Grantaire finally made his way to his feet. “Look, man, I’m sorry. Honestly, I don’t even remember making the conscious decision to grab a beer. It just appeared in my hand.”

Eponine snickered from the table. “Yeah, the beer fairy dropped it off.”

“Don’t even joke about that, Ep.” He snapped at her. “Because if a beer fairy existed, I would have no choice but to marry her.”

“I think we need to cut you off, man.” Combeferre shook his head disappointedly.

“Oh, thank god!” Enjolras exclaimed as he placed a slice of cake in front of Eponine. “I have literally been saying that for years. But, no, I’m just this ‘uptight moron that doesn’t like fun’, to quote a certain someone. I am just so thankful someone’s finally on my side.”

“I stand by my uptight moron comment. But I am an American citizen, am I not?” Grantaire challenged. “And being an American citizen, I have rights.”

Enjolras groaned. “Not this again.” It was the argument he used every time Enjolras tried to cut him off. It had been an argument that had developed over the years and had almost taken a life of its own, but Enjolras still felt confident that he could recite the speech by memory.

“I ask you, good sirs and one madame,” He continued, clearly feeling like he was on a roll. “Where in the United States Constitution does it say that an American citizen is prohibited from drinking at his leisure?”

“Leisure? It’s practically a sport to you, bro.” Courfeyrac snorted.

Grantaire ignored him and went on. “The whole reason we started this country was so we could have the power of choice, hence why democracy and voting is at the center of our governmental ideals. Our forefathers fought hard for our country and the rights of its American citizens…”

“Oh, shove it, R.” Eponine rolled her eyes, after swallowing a large piece of cake. “You get real pretentious when you are arguing and all you are doing is making more of a case of you being an idiot.”

“Dude, you can’t work out if you are drunk.” Combeferre said.

“I can, too.” Grantaire jutted out his chin in defiance at him. “Okay, Richard Simmons, I’ll go to the gym with you and I will prove to you that I am much better off drunk than I am sober.”

Combeferre rolled his eyes. “If that’s what it will take to finally get you to a gym, I’ll take what I can get.”

“Alright, then let’s go.” Grantaire set the bottle down on the coffee table and started walking towards the front door.

“Whoa, hang on.” Combeferre gestured to Grantaire’s jeans and hoodie. “You’re going to need to change first?”

Grantaire furrowed his brow and looked down at his clothes. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“Remember who you’re talking to, Combe.” Courfeyrac spoke up, as he poked his head out of the kitchen. “Hey, R. What do you think one wears to a gym?”

“Do you need to have a special outfit to work out?” Grantaire asked, still genuinely confused.

Enjolras groaned again and Combeferre rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry, I’ve got things you can borrow.” He pushed him back towards his own room.

Courfeyrac sat down at the table to eat his cake. “Man, Combe needs to get laid or get a hobby. He’s been on Grantaire’s tail for weeks now.”

“I’m sorry, his only options are sex or a hobby?” Eponine questioned.

“Don’t question the male mind, my dear Eponine,” He shook his head as he scooped a forkful of cake in his mouth. “It’s a complicated labyrinth that pretty much only revolves around sex.”

“Not true.” Enjolras muttered as he sat down at the table.

“Really, Mr. Marble Man?” Courfeyrac challenged. “You’re going to sit here, look me in the eye, and tell me that you wouldn’t want to lay Eponine out on this table right now?”

“Courf!” Eponine and Enjolras scolded him.

“I’m going to need to start another Jar for you, man.” Enjolras shook his head at him.

“I’m right and I know it.” He insisted. “How do I know it? Because I am a man myself, Enjolras, and I would want that exact same thing. But with Chetta, of course.”

Eponine looked around the room. “Okay, I’m about to throw up.”

“Can we please be adults and try and get Combe a girl?” Courfeyrac stroked an invisible beard as he thought. “Maybe I need to pass on my expertise.”

“No,” Eponine and Enjolras grunted simultaneously.

“The world already has one Courf. It doesn’t need another.” Enjolras stated.

Courfeyrac slumped against his chair. “Excuse me, but I’m neutered now. Being a future father and actually convincing the most perfect and flawless woman to keep me around means that my douche ways are withering away. I need to pass on the douche torch before the flame is extinguished forever.”

“Yeah, that would be an American tragedy.” Eponine said sarcastically.

“One problem with your passing of torch plan, dude.” Enjolras pointed out. “Combeferre is already pretty douchy.”

“And yet he is still without a lady.” Courf argued. “That’s like wearing Italian leather shoes without a tailored jacket to go with it. He needs to fine tune his skills.”

“What he needs, is to steer away from you.” Enjolras insisted.

“Excuse me, but I have landed a dame, haven’t I?” He argued, earning yet another groan from Eponine and Enjolras.

Combeferre and Grantaire emerged from the down the hall, Grantaire sporting an 80s workout vibe. With knee-high white socks, with grey shorts and a black muscle shirt. All complete with bright orange sweatbands over his forehead and wrists. “Are you sure this is what people wear to the gym?” Grantaire was asking Combeferre, as the three friends at the table tried not to laugh.

“Of course, man.” Combeferre then gestured to the table mates. “Guys, will you please tell this newbie that this is what people have worn to the gym before?” There was no mistaking the mischievous look in his eye.

“Yeah, you look bitchin’.” Eponine gave a thumbs up while hiding her giggles.

“I feel like a clown.” Grantaire looked down at his clothes again. “Combe, I’ve never seen you wear any of this stuff.”

Enjolras swallowed his chuckles, unable to stop messing with Grantaire. “That’s because he’s a personal trainer. When you get your training license, you don’t need to wear that groovy gear.”

Eponine quickly opened her phone and snapped a quick photo. “This is definitely going to be my new screensaver.”

“Lucky, for you both,” Courfeyrac stood up with a smile. “I have decided to join your workout group.”

“I don’t recall inviting you.” Combe shook his head.

“Too bad.” He pushed the remaining half of his cake towards Eponine. “You can finish this off, while I go and pass the torch.”

“But you’re wearing jeans.” Grantaire pointed out. “How come I was practically crucified for wanting to wear jeans?”

“I always keep a spare workout outfit in my car.” Courf shrugged. “You never know when you need to show off the gun show to the ladies.” Eponine and Enjolras booed, Eponine going the extra mile and threw a crumpled up piece of paper at him. “Which is something that I don’t do… anymore. But Combeferre, feel free to remember that helpful tip.”

“Why are you singling me out?”

Courfeyrac slapped the two men on the shoulders excitedly. “Come on, men. Let’s get physical!”

>>>

“This counts as torture, right?” Grantaire was already sweating buckets. He was lightly jogging on a treadmill while Courfeyrac was jogging on the machine next to him. Combeferre was standing on the floor in between two of them. He had been pushing Grantaire to try nearly every available machine in the gym, but each one only lasted about three seconds before the complaining started.

“You’ve been on this thing for five seconds.” Combeferre pointed out annoyed.

“And I already want to die.” He lifted his feet to stand on the edges, gasping for breath. “You tell me you do this for fun?”

“Well, I’m not as out of shape as you.” Combeferre muttered.

“Come on, R.” Courfeyrac tried to encourage as he continued jogging on his treadmill. “Just keep at it. Don’t you want a rocking bod to show off to your boy toy?”

Grantaire, still panting, rolled his eyes. “Don’t call him a boy toy. And he happens to like my beer rolls, thank you very much.”

“Less talk, more run.” Combeferre encouraged him. “Let’s go. Hustle.”

R groaned loudly. “I hate exercise. Always have and always will.” Reluctantly, though, he started his light jogging on the treadmill for about ten seconds this time, before tapping out again. “Oh, my god, I can’t breathe.”

Combeferre shook his head in defeat. “I can’t believe you have gotten this far in life being in as poor of shape as you are.”

Courf chuckled, still jogging away. “Didn’t you ever notice that he has never taken the stairs once at the apartment?”

“Why would I do that?” Grantaire gasped. “There’s an elevator. Technology exists to make our lives easier. Someone needs to get me a beer before I pass out.”

Combeferre rubbed his temples, regretting ever taking Grantaire to a gym. “We’re in a gym, dude. The only liquid you will find available is water.”

“God, might as well call this place Guantanamo!”

“Hey, Combe,” Courfeyrac hit him in the shoulder and gestured toward a girl who was lifting weights a couple of machines down from them. “Check out that chick.”

Combe looked at her quickly before shooting his friend a look. “Dude, what happened to Chetta? You can’t be checking out chicks with a baby on the way.”

“No, no, not for me. For you, man. I’ve decided to pass on my knowledge of landing women to you.”

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “Oh, god. So you’re going to teach him how to get women to hate you?”

“Women don’t hate me. They can’t get enough of me.” He said, hopping off the treadmill, so he could focus on teaching Combeferre his ways. “And I’ll have you know that I got a lot of women by using the COURF method.”

“Okay, first I’m being forced to exercise, now I have to endure Courf giving out dating advice,” R shook his head. “Am I in purgatory or something?”

“Shut up and get back on the treadmill.” Combe turned down the setting on the machine. “I’ll let you walk for the time being.” After loud groaning, Grantaire reluctantly resumed his workout. Combeferre turned back to Courfeyrac. Of course, he had his reservations about this “method”, but he was also sort of desperate. “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s the COURF method?”

Courfeyrac smiled widely and threw his arm around his buddy excitedly. “It’s only the most important and easy five-step tried and true program of your life. It’s an anagram, see? Each letter stands for something. First is the letter C, which stands for ‘capture her attention’. This can be done by doing some heroic act, showing off your body, or coming up with some very clever, yet suggestive pick-up line.”

“This is all utter bullshit.” R chimed in.

“Keep running on your wheel, hamster.” Courf waved a hand at him to shut him up. “So, you happen to be at a gym, which we all know is full of innuendos.”

“How?” Combeferre asked, knitting his eyebrows together.

Courf gave him an incredulous look. “Dude, what is sex, but a very fun workout routine? You got your stamina, your weightlifting, muscle isolation.”

“Okay, I’m out.” Combeferre ducked underneath Courf’s arm and turned back to Grantaire. “Think you’re up for a faster pace?”

The wet curls on his head shook violently. “Not unless you want to bury me right here. But just know that if I die, I am going full poltergeist on this place.”

“Might I ask a fair question?” Courfeyrac asked, crossing his arms. “When was the last time you got laid, Combeferre?”

Combeferre’s mouth formed a tight line, as he inhaled through his nose. Everything in him told him not to give in to Courf’s teachings. But… he had made a fair point. “What does ‘O’ stand for?”

After a victorious giggle, Courf resumed his lecture. “That stands the phrase, ‘oh, wow’. After you have captured the lady’s attention, you need to pay her a compliment that starts off with the phrase, ‘oh, wow.’ For example, ‘Oh, wow, your hair is flawless. Do you model for a shampoo company?’ or ‘Oh, wow, how does someone as gorgeous as you not have a date?’ This lets the lady know that you are interested in her so much that you are blown away by something about her.”

“Can I ask a fair question now?” Grantaire asked, dabbing his forehead with a towel. “What is the success rate of this method of yours?”

“About 80 percent, depending on the state of our economy.” Courf shrugged.

“Just continue with the rest of the steps before I change my mind,” Combeferre gestured toward him.

“Okay, so next step is ‘U’, which stands for ‘undermine yourself’. See, you just got done paying her a compliment, so now you need to put yourself down. So, if you just said something like, ‘Oh, wow, you have amazing arm definition.’ Then, you undermine yourself by saying something like, ‘I could never have that level definition.’ Or ‘I only wish I could be as defined as you.’ What this does will inevitably trick her into paying you a compliment or offer words of encouragement like, ‘Don’t worry, I can help you with that, big boy’.”

“Ew,” Both Combeferre and Grantaire flinched.

“This didn’t work on Chetta, did it?” Grantaire asked.

Courf shrugged again. “I mean, not exactly. It did take her a while to warm up to me, but I did use it on her and she did eventually fall for me, so in a way, yes.”

“Skip to the next part.” Combeferre encouraged.

“Okay, well, R stands for ‘rope her in’. And by this I mean, find a way to take her back to your place…”

“I have feeling I know what F stands for.” Grantaire chimed in.

“So do I,” Combeferre looked over at the girl Courf gestured to earlier. Her back was facing them and she was now on a spin machine. She had a purple sports bra on with black leggings, which seemed to hug her ass. He felt like a nervous teenager. “So you think I should go talk to her?”

“Yeah, man.” Courfeyrac gestured toward her. “Time to apply your knowledge. Remember, C-O-U-R-F.” He pushed him towards her, while Grantaire dismounted the treadmill.

“Permission to die now?” He gasped, grateful that Combeferre was no longer around to force him to exercise.

“Permission denied.” Courfeyrac kept his focus on the retreating Combeferre. “Let’s get a little closer. I can’t hear anything from this far away.”

“Okay, but I ain’t lifting anything heavier than 10 pounds.” Grantaire said as he wiped his face off with the towel around his neck. “Also, is it normal to feel numb in your left arm during a workout?”

Courfeyrac ignored him and pushed towards one of the weightlifting machines. Combeferre nervously approached the woman, who was chugging down water as she continued to pedal on the spin machine. _Okay, dude, you got this_ , he thought to himself. _What did C stand for again? Why am I listening to him?_ “Nice pedaling.” He said aloud.

Clearly, he took her by surprise because she jumped slightly and choked on her water. She coughed and looked over at him. “Excuse me?” She asked, in between coughs.

“Oh, my god. I’m sorry.” Combeferre reached out but withdrew his hands. How was he going to help her? There was no way she was going to let him do the Heimlich maneuver. “I mean, Oh, wow, you’re really choking on that water good.”

Courfeyrac, having witnessed the whole scene, slapped his forehead. Disappointed didn’t even begin to cover his feelings towards Combeferre. Grantaire was stifling giggles as best he could, wishing he hadn’t stowed his phone in the locker room so he could film this.

“I’m what?” The woman’s face showed that it was clear that she did not find humor in the situation.

“No, no,” Combeferre’s mouth was now moving faster than his brain. _Undermine yourself._ “I mean, I’m stupid.” _I’m going to kill Courfeyrac._

The woman nodded slowly. “Yeah, okay. Um, I’m going to move to a different machine now.” She spoke as she slowly dismounted. “Don’t follow me or I will have your ass thrown out of here. Got it?” She huffed away, leaving Combeferre alone with his self-deprecating thoughts. That only lasted a little bit though.

“Yikes, dude.” Grantaire came up behind him and threw his arm around his friend’s shoulder. “That was the worst thing I’ve ever seen. Tell me, is it your first time talking to people? Like ever?”

Courfeyrac was cradling his face in his hands, the absolute horror on his face very present. “From now on, if anyone asks if we are friends, I’m going to deny that I even know you.”

Combeferre rolled his eyes and shrugged R’s arm off him. “Whatever, man. I used your stupid system.”

“Don’t you dare drag my tried and true COURF system, you heathen! I did not tell you to do… that!”

“I know we’ve joked you don’t know how to talk to women, but damn.” Grantaire couldn’t stop giggling like a madman.

“Okay, work out time over.” Combeferre announced, gesturing them to the locker room. “Let’s go home so I can beat myself up in the privacy of my own room.”

“Yeah, we need to get out of the public eye immediately.” Courfeyrac nodded in agreement. “I can’t even look at you right now.”

“Oh, thank god!” Grantaire punched the air, so happy that he didn’t have to go through the torture of working out anymore. “But hey, can we stop by the Musain before we go home? I’ve lost a lot of fluid during this workout, and I’m going to need to refill on booze, stat.”

>>>

“The choice is yours, ladies and gentlemen.” Enjolras finished his speech, as Eponine was also humming to herself. “Do you think I should end with the questions? Or is the choice statement good enough?”

Eponine started to sing the lyrics she was writing aloud. “’I got my pencils in my pack, and the…’ What rhymes with pack that’s still school themed?”

“Oh, for crying out loud.” Enjolras scoffed. “Glad to know that no one in this house listens to me ever.”

“I am listening.” Eponine insisted. “But I have less than 12 hours to get this ‘Old Town Road’ rewrite down.”

“Well, I have less than 12 hours to get this closing statement finalized.”

“I’m sorry.” She reached out and took a hold of his hand. “I was listening, and I think the choice statement is good enough. I think you’re overthinking this.”

He forced a sigh and sank down in the chair next to her. “This is just a really big case and they usually never let me give the closing argument for something this big.”

“And you’re going to knock it out of the park, because you’re amazing.” She assured him. “Stop doubting yourself.”

Giving her a smile, he could slowly feel himself relax again. “I’m sorry. Guess I’m just being a jerk again.”

“No,” She returned his smile. “We both just have very demanding jobs that we’re passionate about. Maybe we should just quit and join the circus or something.”

“What exactly would our talent be?” He chuckled.

“I’m glad you asked because I’ve thought a lot about this.” Eponine joked. “I think I would make a pretty good bearded lady, and you can be like the strong man or the lion tamer or something.”

Enjolras knit his eyebrows together. “Are you just wanting to see me with a whip or something?”

Her smile grew wider. “Well, that wasn’t my original intent, but now that you mention it…” She stood up enough to give him a kiss.

But as usual, a tender moment never lasted long in the house. Because only a couple seconds later, the boys returned from the gym trip, still screaming at each other about the events that happened in the gym. Eponine and Enjolras gave each other a quick annoyed look before turning to face their friends again. “Okay, calm down, guys.” Eponine exclaimed over them. “What happened at the gym?”

“Combeferre embarrassed the entire male population,” Courf told her. “That’s what happened.”

“So, the mission to sober up Grantaire went well.” Enj mentioned sarcastically, seeing that Grantaire was carrying a six pack.

“That was a lost cause from the start.” He shrugged as he made his way over to the table, slapping the Marble Man on the shoulder. “You of all people should know that by now.”

“What happened exactly?” Eponine asked the other two. Soon, they all congregated around the dining table, Courf unable to sit.

“Combeferre doesn’t know how to talk to women.” He said, gesturing angrily towards the red-haired man.

“R, pass me a beer.” Combeferre reached a hand towards his friend across the table.

“Don’t need to tell me twice.” He said as he placed a cold bottle in his hands, as Enjolras pinched the bridge of his nose.

Combeferre slumped in a chair as he spoke. “Courf tried to teach me his method…”

“Oh, god.” Enjolras groaned knowingly. “The COURF method?”

“Well, there’s your first problem.” Eponine nodded.

Courf grunted in frustration. “Oh, my god, it’s a tried and true system that is this close to being endorsed by Jay-Z.”

“It is not.” Grantaire argued.

“As soon as he answers my DMs, it will be!”

“Okay, I know that I suck.” Combeferre said. “We don’t need to tell the whole damn world.”

“You don’t suck, Combe.” Eponine assured him. “Did you blow your chance with a pretty girl today?”

“Blow it?” Grantaire snickered. “He had a real ‘been trapped in a bunker most of my life and just got released’ vibe to him. Needless to say, the girl went running.”

“I’m sorry.” Eponine reached out and rubbed her roommates arm comfortingly.

“No, they’re right.” Combeferre sighed. “I’ve been told before that I don’t know how to talk to women. I’m either an awkward teen or I’m screaming in their face. No in between.”

“So, I’m guessing you don’t have any sisters?” Eponine asked.

“Nope, five boys.” He replied. “And my mom was in the military and always got deployed for most of my childhood. I’ve pretty much only ever known men.”

Grantaire snickered yet again. “Maybe you’re bi, too.”

“Stop it, R.” Eponine scolded him, before Combeferre got too upset. “Well, you’re in luck because I happen to be a woman. And therefore, I think I have an idea on what women like in a man.”

“Oh, so you’re more qualified to teach him than me?” Courfeyrac argued.

“Again, I am a woman.” She pointed out. Then turned back to the red-haired man. “Let me see what we’re working with. Act like you’re trying to pick me up at a bar or something.”

The rest of the men watched as Combeferre looked around like a scared kid with stage fright. “No way.”

“Combe, it’s okay.” Eponine tried to assure him. “It’s just practice. And as you know, practice makes perfect. So, pretend we’re sitting at a bar and you just came up to me. What would you say?”

He rolled his eyes and said, “Hi.”

“Hi,” Eponine smiled and gave him an encouraging nod. “I’m Eponine. What’s your name?”

“Combeferre.”

“Nice to meet you. Would you like to buy me a drink?”

Reluctantly, Combeferre sat forward, leaning into the exercise. “Sure, what are you drinking?”

“A martini.”

Unable to stop himself, Combeferre chuckled. “Yeah, of course you are. Hey, bartender, give me one of those pussy drinks.” The table groaned. “What, it was a joke!”

“We’ve got a long way to go.” Eponine shook her head.


	45. There a Little Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello all! I just wanted to clarify that I edited the last chapter (44) to contain the new chapter that helps set up this chapter. So if you haven't read the previous one, maybe it will help provide some context for this one!

Friday nights are great for picking up new people. All you need to do is go to a local bar and start a conversation and you are almost guaranteed to get at least a phone number. Usually, the vibe on Friday nights are very relaxed. But for Combeferre, it was high stakes. Eponine had been grilling him on techniques to help with his difficulties communicating with women, and tonight, he was being put to the test. The whole gang had convened to help support him on his endeavors, Enjolras, Eponine, Courfeyrac, Musichetta, and even Joly were huddled in a corner booth at the Musain.

“You can do this, man.” Courfeyrac encouraged him.

Combeferre scanned the Musain for a potential women, but was feeling very nervous. “God, I have never been this nervous about anything.”

“Don’t over think it.” Eponine rested a hand over his. “What is the one thing you will not do?”

He sighed. “I will not insult a woman under any circumstances.” He recited from memory.

Eponine smiled happily, proud of her student. “Good, then you’ll be fine.”

“You know,” Joly spoke up. “When you had invited me out for drinks, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

“Care to make it a drinking game?” Grantaire asked with a playful look in his eye.

Joly grinned widely. “Absolutely.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes at them. “You guys could offer a piece of advice, at least.”

Grantaire shrugged and looked to Combeferre. “Just don’t be a douche.” Joly nodded in agreement with a wicked smile.

“Wow, R.” Combeferre muttered. “Fantastic advice.”

“I thought so.”

“What about you, Enjolras?” Joly countered. “Any sage wisdom you wish to pass on to our fair Combeferre?”

Enjolras was clearly taken aback by this challenge and stammered over his words. Musichetta rolled her eyes and all but pushed Combeferre to his feet. “Stop doubting yourself and go rope one in.”

“I’m going to need a drink first.” Combeferre insisted.

Courf stood up, raising his hand. “Okay, I’ll buy you this one drink, but then you gotta go put yourself out there. Anyone want another round while I’m up?”

Musichetta groaned in misery. “I would love a stiff one right now, but I’m only stuck with water.”

“Anything for you, my love.” Courf smiled at her and pushed Combe towards the bar.

“The sooner this thing gets out of me,” Chetta gestured to her swollen stomach. “The better. I miss things like booze and coffee and salmon.”

Enjolras furrowed his brows together. “Why can’t you eat salmon?”

“The baby hates it. Makes me throw up every time I so much as smell it.” She pushed herself up to her feet. “Ep, you want to come with me to the bathroom? Baby’s pushing on my bladder again.”

“Okay.” She agreed, shuffling out of the booth. “Let me know if I miss anything good while I’m gone.”

“So here’s what I’m thinking.” Grantaire conspired with Joly. “Every time Combe inevitably strikes out, you take a drink. Finish the drink if she slaps him.”

“What if she gives him her number?” Joly asked, unable to keep the playful grin off his face, as Enjolras looked on in disapproval.

“Then we buy him a drink.” R shrugged. “But I’m guessing that’s not going to happen very often.”

“You have a lot of faith in your friends, R.” Enjolras commented, looking over at Courf trying to encourage Combeferre to talk to a woman across the bar. Much like a coach encouraging a boxer in the ring.

“I _know_ my friends, thank you very much.” Grantaire countered. “Combe has never been good with women. Remember, in college, when he tried to seduce the TA in our econ class?”

The blonde man shook his head at the memory. “I’m surprised he didn’t get removed from the roster at least.”

Joly snickered. “What’s the story there?”

R rubbed his hands together excitedly. “Basically, he was failing the class and tried to sweet talk his way with the teacher’s assistant.”

“And I’m guessing it didn’t turn out well?”

“Ha, he pretty much showed up in her office butt naked. She had the campus police on him so fast.” Joly and Grantaire fell into a fit of giggles.

Enjolras remembered storming into the campus police office and using his law education to help avoid Combeferre getting expelled from school. The lecture he had given Combeferre afterwords, well, Grantaire referred to it as “next level dadness”. “You two are ridiculous. I’m going to try and support him. You would do well to follow in my example.” He slowly started to stand up.

Grantaire couldn’t help but chuckle. “Oh, but we are unworthy mortals, good sir. Pray tell, how might we follow in your holy example?”

Enjolras had reached his peak and stomped away. Grantaire was his best friend, but his sarcasm and general “Grantaire-ness” was a bit much sometimes.

“So, how long have you fancied Enjolras?” Joly asked R, as soon as he was sure Enjolras was out of earshot.

Grantaire gave his friend a shocked look. “What?”

“Oh, please. It’s so obvious.” He told him. “I know that he’s so caught up in his own heterosexual ways to notice, but you practically drool over him every time he’s near.”

“He’s my best friend.” Grantaire tried to insist.

Joly wouldn’t let it go, though. “I know best friends. And true, you two have a great friendship, but you want more than that.”

Grantaire chugged a large mouthful of beer, feeling very uncomfortable. “You Brits are so delusional.”

“Look, all I’m saying is… you know he’s got a girlfriend. And he’s straight.”

“Of course, I know that. I have boyfriend and I’m very happy. So what?”

“So, have you told him?”

“Told my boyfriend?”

“No, told Enjolras.”

R felt his fight or flight instincts kick in. “We are getting way off topic here. The purpose of tonight is to make fun of Combeferre, not to discuss your hallucinations.”

Joly regarded the curly haired man carefully. He knew that he wasn’t wrong about his feelings for Enjolras. The trick was going to be… how was he going to get him to admit it?

>>>

“Hey,” Combeferre said casually to a blonde haired woman who was in the middle of talking with another blonde woman. Both of them turned slowly to stare at him.

“Hi.” Neither one of them looked like they were wanting someone to be talking to them, but Combeferre felt words pouring out of him anyway.

“Can I buy either of you a drink?” He asked.

“We’re fine, Thanks though.” One of them said, putting on a fake smile and turning to face her friend, clearly done with the conversation.

Again, words poured out of him, as if his mouth was on autopilot. “What are you ladies talking about?”

The two women looked back at him, annoyance written all over their face. “Look,” The second one spoke this time. “We have boyfriends who are like crazy strong. So… move along, Carrot Top.” The other girl giggled and Combeferre finally got the hint.

Slumping his shoulders, he turned back to where Enjolras and Courfeyrac stood at the bar watching the whole scene unfurl. “Wow, those were not nice women.” Enjolras commented.

“Let’s call them what they are: bitches.” Courf said bluntly as Combeferre rejoined them.

The man sank onto a stool in defeat. “It’s no use.” Combeferre groaned. “Those would be the fourth and fifth women to reject me tonight.”

“Don’t give up, man.” Courfeyrac tried to encourage him. He scanned the bar for more potential female partners for him.

“How many more women need to tell me off before I finally get the hint?” Combeferre asked, cradling his head in his hands. “Let’s face it. I’m going to end up all alone.”

“Why are you so nervous all of a sudden?” Enjolras sat on the stool next to him, as Courf continued to look around. “I don’t remember you being this weird around Marie.”

“That’s because I was already ten drinks in when I met her, remember?” He said. “We met at Mark Granger’s grad party towards the end of the night when we had all been taking turns with the shot ski.”

Enjolras barely remembered that night, considering how much he himself drank. “Well, you still managed to keep her around for a couple years after that, right?”

“Yeah, but then she dumped me.” Combeferre pointed out. “And… that’s kind of why I keep acting weird around all these women. Every time I try to talk to any female, I can just hear Marie’s voice telling me that I’m worthless and never cared about her.”

Courfeyrac sat on the other side of Combeferre, feeling sympathy overtake him. “That’s what this is about? You’re still not over Marie?”

“Why didn’t you just say something?” Enjolras added.

“Because I sound pathetic.” He practically exclaimed in frustration. “Some chick kicked me out of the house and now my whole confidence is shaken. I sound like some Hallmark sissy.”

“No, you don’t.” Enjolras told him. “You sound like a human being.”

“Yeah, dude.” Courf slapped his friend on the shoulder. “We’ve all been there. I mean, I know I come across as this super genius when it comes to women…”

“Wrong.” Enjolras rolled his eyes.

“But plenty of women have rejected me. Granted, the numbers between how many have rejected me and how many I’ve actually boned are astronomically different…”

“I think what Courf is trying to say,” Enjolras interrupted. “Is… relationships leave you high and dry sometimes. You remember how broken I was when Amelie and I split up.”

“Yeah, but now you guys have Eponine and Chetta.” Combeferre lifted his head finally to face his friends. “And you’re happy. That’s… that’s what I want. I want to skip the whole awkward beginning stages and skip right to the happy parts.”

“Well, it all has to start somewhere.” Enjolras reminded him.

Courf nodded earnestly. “Yeah, Chetta didn’t give me the time of day in the beginning.”

“But you knew, right?” Combeferre insisted. “Both of you knew that when you saw Chetta or Eponine… it was… never mind, I’m sounding like a sissy again.”

“I’ll say.” The voice was not Courfeyrac’s or Enjolras’. All of the men turned to see a woman smiling at them just a couple seats down from where they all sat. Clearly, she had been listening to most of the conversation. What they noticed right away was her mega-watt smile. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t pretend not to listen any longer.”

“Um, who are you?” Courfeyrac asked, as Combeferre stared intensely at her.

“I’m Claudia.” The woman introduced herself. “And it sounds like your friend here is need of some serious help.”

“No offense,” Enjolras spoke up. “But we don’t know you. What makes you think he needs your help?”

“Relax, Blondie. I’m a relationship therapist; it’s kind of my job.” She reached into her purse and slid her business card down the bar towards him. Enjolras inspected the piece of paper carefully. Claudia Thoreau, Relationship and Marriage Therapist. Combeferre couldn’t stop staring at the beautiful brown-haired woman. “And in case you didn’t notice,” She held up her left hand to show of the ring on her ring finger. “I’m already taken. Just consider this free, no strings attached advice.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Courfeyrac practically dragged Combeferre down to the stool next to where Claudia sat. “I’m Courfeyrac, by the way. And this is my friend, Combeferre.”

“Hold on.” Enjolras stood, still not fully convinced of her credentials. He crossed his arms across his chest and stared daggers at the woman. “Just because you have a business card, that doesn’t necessarily make you qualified to help.”

The woman took one look over Enjolras, Courfeyrac, and Combeferre. Almost as if she was a robot scanning them and accumulating data with each scan. Then she pointed to Enjolras. “Strict dad, I’m guessing military. Major trust issues.” She then pointed to Courfeyrac. “Divorced parents. Avid people pleaser.” Finally, she gestured to Combeferre. “And I did hear that a girl dumped you. But I also know that you grew up with mostly men, absentee or dead mom. Which results in your vulnerability issues.”

“Holy shit.” Courfeyrac remarked, as the other two only stared at her dumbfounded. “You’re hired.”

“We’re not paying her.” Enjolras slapped him on the shoulder.

“No, but if anyone can fix our boy, it’s her.” Courfeyrac turned back to her. “We leave him in your lovely and capable hands.” Courfeyrac nearly pushed Enjolras away as Claudia addressed Combeferre directly.

“So do you speak or is staring your only move?” She asked with a smile.

He shook his head and forced himself to blink. “Sorry. I’m… Combeferre.”

“That’s not your real name though.” She guessed accurately. “I’m guessing that’s your last name?”

“Yeah… my first name’s Phillippe.” He admitted sheepishly.

“That’s a great name.” Claudia assured him. “You should use that more often.” 

“So, you really want to help me?” He asked.

“You kinda need it, kiddo. I’ve been watching you strike out with every pretty girl in this bar.”

“You’ve been watching me?”

“Yeah, it’s kinda like a horrific car wreck. I just can’t look away.”

Combeferre finally allowed himself to laugh. “I can’t be that bad.”

“No, it’s bad.” She smiled at him. “I’m pretty sure at least three women have the police on speed dial, just ready to take you down at any moment.”

>>>

“How long have they been talking now?” Chetta asked the booth. They had all been watching Claudia and Combeferre hit it off from across the bar. Slowly, they watched as their friend’s nervousness and defenses dwindle and soon they were joking and carrying on like they were old friends.

“At least an hour.” Eponine said excitedly. “Oh, my god, I couldn’t be prouder of him.”

Grantaire grumpily slumped against the booth. “I was hoping that he’d get rejected by now. Our drinking game is ruined.”

“But for the better.” Courf nudged him in the shoulder. “I can’t believe she’s still talking to him.”

“Do you think she likes him?” Joly asked.

“She said she’s married.” Enjolras answered.

“No, she definitely likes him.” Eponine nodded towards the couple across the floor. “She’s laughed at every single one of his jokes.”

“And look at her leaning on the bar like that.” Musichetta pointed out. “That is definite girl talk for ‘please take me home’.”

“Is it really?” Enjolras asked with a furrowed brow.

“I don’t know.” Joly shook his head. “I don’t think she’s into him.”

“Agreed.” Grantaire chimed in. “I think she’s just playing to his ego. Plus, like Enjy boy just mentioned she’s married.”

Courfeyrac gestured for everyone to lean in around the table. “Okay, let’s get a pool started. Joly and Grantaire are on team ‘Just Not That Into You’. Enj, where do you stand?”

The blonde man studied the couple again. Claudia was nodding as Combeferre animatedly told her a story, giggling at various points. “I just can’t get over the fact that she’s wearing a wedding ring. She can’t be into him.”

“Alright, Enjy boy.” Grantaire slapped him on the shoulder and offered him his beer bottle. “I always knew we would see eye-to-eye someday.”

“Please stop calling me that.”

“Well, Chetta and I happen to be the only women here.” Eponine pointed out. “And we say that she’s into him. Maybe she’s getting a divorce.”

“Or maybe she has an open marriage.” Chetta added.

“Very hot.” Courf commented. “I have to side with the females here. I think she’s into him.”

“But she told us that she was taken.” Enjolras countered.

“True… never mind on the boy’s team.” Courf shrugged.

“You can’t just change loyalties like that.” Chetta told him. Then they all watched as Claudia threw her head back in laughter, as she reached out and touched Combeferre’s arm.

“And, I’m back with the girls.” Courfeyrac decided.

“It was just an arm touch.” Enjolras rolled his eyes.

“No, that wasn’t any arm touch.” Eponine insisted. “That was something.”

“Yeah, they’re gonna have sex in five minutes.” Musichetta nodded.

“Absolutely.” Courfeyrac agreed. “Women don’t touch men unless they are into them.”

Grantaire finally had enough. “Okay, let me out of the booth.” He practically shoved Joly, Courfeyrac and Chetta out of his way. “I’m going over there to settle this once and for all.”

“R, don’t you dare.” Eponine seethed at him.

Musichetta grabbed his arm. “Yeah, Combeferre needs this. Don’t you start interfering.”

“I’m simply going to ask one question and then I walk away.” Grantaire stumbled his way to his feet, already having drank quite a bit. Luckily, as a seasoned drinker, he was able to keep himself upright enough to glide over towards Claudia and Combeferre. “Okay, lady, time to fess up.” Grantaire announced, falling onto Combeferre sloppily.

“R, get the hell out of here.” Combeferre muttered to him, shoving him away.

“I only have one question for the lady.” Grantaire insisted. “Are you actually married or not?”

“Who is this guy?” Claudia asked Combeferre.

“I have never met this man in my life.” He lied.

“We share an apartment, ass.” Grantaire slugged him in the arm. “I’m Grantaire.” He held out his hand for her to shake.

“Ah,” She gingerly took his hand. “The depressed drunk.”

“That’s me!” R beamed proudly. “Now, answer the question, are you actually married or not? Because me and my friends cannot make heads or tails of your intentions.”

Combeferre stood up and gripped Grantaire by his shirt roughly. “Dude, get lost now.”

“I’m not.” Claudia admitted.

Both the men looked at her in shock. “What?”

“I’m not married,” Slowly, she removed her ring from her hand. “I wear this in bars so creeps don’t try and hit on me.”

“Oh, goddammit.” Grantaire grunted in frustration. He and Joly had been wrong. A quick glance over at the booth showed that Joly and Enjolras were hanging their heads in defeat while Courfeyrac, Eponine, and Musichetta celebrated their victory.

“You’re not married?” Combeferre repeated, still in shock.

“I’m not.” She smiled brightly at him. “And lucky for you, I happen to be free for the rest of the night. So, Phillippe, are you going to ask me out or what?”

“Who the hell is Phillippe?” Grantaire muttered, earning a kick from Combeferre.

“You want to go out with me?” He asked.

Claudia couldn’t help but chuckle at him. “Duh. Why do you think I’ve been talking to you for so long?”

“Wow, this is great-“ Grantaire received another kick in the shin from Combeferre, making him bend over in pain. “Jesus, bro, I ain’t a soccer ball.”

“Let’s get out of here then.” Combeferre held out his arm for Claudia to take. She stood and wrapped an arm around his. “Don’t wait up, R.” He said, not looking at him as the two of them exited the bar. Combeferre happened to glance over at his booth of friends just before leaving the bar. Eponine and Musichetta were giving the thumbs up. Enjolras gave him an approving, but stiff nod, as well as Joly. Courfeyrac was fist pumping the air in excitement. They were all really proud of their boy.


	46. A Bit Messy

“Great, let’s take a quick break so we can reset the lighting.” The photographer told Jamie, who was currently posing for an underwear ad. Grantaire had snuck into the studio to watch him at work, which of course, was almost laughable to him, since “a day at the office” meant that he was going to be half-naked covered in oil for a few hours. Jamie had seen R hiding in the corner and he smiled, gesturing for him to meet him at the catering table.

“What are you doing here?” He asked him, shoving a grape in his mouth.

“We had that movie we were going to tonight, remember?” Grantaire said, eyeballing the comically large spread of food available.

Jamie had clearly forgotten, judging from his demeanor. “Oh, god, that’s tonight.”

“Look, it doesn’t matter that much.” R tried to shrug. “According to the reviews I read, Toni Collette isn’t that great in it.”

“No, I still want to go,” He looked over his shoulder at the team of set workers redressing the photoshoot. “I think this should only take about another hour. Why don’t you stick around?”

“Well, normally, I would say no, but after looking this gorgeous spread of food…”

“Eat it all.” Jamie chuckled. “The models aren’t going to eat any of it.”

Grantaire shot him an incredulous look. “You mean, they take the time to put out cheese, crackers, and finger sandwiches with every single food group in them, and people just turn their nose up at it?”

“More for you then.” He placed a kiss on his boyfriend’s forehead. “I’m sorry again that I’m stuck at work.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He replied sincerely. “I’ll be fine over here while you go make that paper.”

“Okay, let’s get the rest of the models in here.” The photographer called. “Jamie, can we get back on top of this horse?”

“Yeah, I’m coming.” Jamie shot his boyfriend a playful wink and sauntered over to where a fake stuffed horse was sitting in the middle of the room. Grantaire watched as a couple of older women started to put more oil over him as a group of hot people came from a door on the other side of the room. Men and women alike, all coming straight out of a teenage fever dream, wearing silk robes. One by one, an assistant took a robe from one hot person after the other, each revealing that they only wore underwear of various colors. R nearly choked on the food he was currently shoving in his mouth when he saw the men’s perfectly sculpted bodies.

The photographer went about moving the models around Jamie, where he lounged the back of the fake horse. A couple of women joined him on the horse, wrapping their thin limbs around him seductively. The remaining models all were posed around the horse looking up at Jamie as if he was some sort of Greek god that had just descended from the heavens. Something struck Grantaire like a bolt of lightning. It was something he hadn’t felt since high school. Insecurity. Here was Jamie, a perfect specimen of a human being, surrounded by all sorts of other perfect specimens. Grantaire wasn’t like those people. What did Jamie see in him anyway?

After a few snapshots, the photographer called for only the women and Jamie to stay while the rest of the men could take a break. Most of them went to sit on the various chairs set up around the room to check their phones, but a few did manage to make their way to the food table, where Grantaire sat in complete awe.

“Are you new here?” One of the male models asked him, flashing a perfectly straight and white smile.

“Uh, I…” Grantaire was clearly not used to conversing with hot people.

“Hey, I know you.” Another model said, looking over him carefully. “You know Cosette Fauchelevent, right? You were at her wedding?”

Shaking his head, Grantaire tried to maintain his cool. “I think it’s Cosette Pontmercy now, but yeah.”

“And you’re Jamie’s new boyfriend… Is it Grant?”

“Grantaire,” He stuck out his hand for the man to shake.

“Oh, sorry.” The man pulled away. “I have germ thing. You understand, right?”

“Sure.” Grantaire decided not to ask him why his ‘germ thing’ didn’t apply to the woman who was just wrapped around him for the shoot.

“I hope you don’t find this awkward,” The man continued. “But Jamie and I… well, we used to hook up.”

“Brock.” One of the models said, who was downing a piece of pineapple. “Of course, that’s awkward. What the hell, bro?”

“It’s fine.” Grantaire tried to assure them. “I mean, it makes total sense.” He gestured broadly to the man’s many abs that were on display.

“They’ve been over for a while now, so don’t worry. I’m Tarren, by the way.”

“Of course, you are.”

“So, you and Jamie…” Brock leaned on the table, giving R a challenging look. “Going well?”

Tarren rolled his eyes. “Wow, you’re a dick.”

“It is actually.” R said, painting a smile on his face and feeling a strange sense of territorialism. “So you still single?”

“Oh, my god, quit acting catty.” Tarren told the both of them. “He’s really not like this most of the time.”

Brock rolled his eyes this time. “I’m just making conversation with Jamie’s new boy toy. You know, since they come and go so quickly.”

“Okay, boys,” The photographer called over his shoulder. “Your turn. Girls, take a break.”

“See you around, Gunnar.” Brock waved at him.

“You, too, Brooklyn.” R said with a venomous smile. It was now clear why he didn’t hang around models. He watched as the men crowded around his man and the green monster and insecurities took over. He reached into his pocket to withdraw his flask. Originally, he had planned on saving the flask for the movie, but now, he really just needed something to take the edge off.

>>>

“Hello, roomies!” Courfeyrac threw open the door to the apartment, Musichetta waddling in behind him. She was now about six months pregnant and her belly was getting larger and larger with every passing day. They had just been to Lamaze class and decided to pay the old apartment a visit.

“You don’t live with them anymore, Courf.” Chetta told him. “They’re not your roomies.”

Courf noticed that no one was in the living room or dining room. “Hey, guys? Where you at?” He proceeded to check the bedrooms to see who was home.

“I’m going to hit up their fridge and see if Grantaire has any leftovers I can shove in my face.” As Chetta found many things to munch on, Courf continued to poke his head in every room. No one was home.

“This is ridiculous.” He said, returning to the kitchen. “There has literally never been a time when someone hasn’t been home. Now, when I actually want to hang out, they’re all gone?”

“Babe, they all have lives.” She spoke through a mouthful of mashed potatoes. “And they all are in a relationship.”

“Yeah, that’s the weirdest part. There’s also never been a time where at least one of us hasn’t been single.” He slumped on one of the stools at the kitchen island.

“It means we’re growing up.” She offered a spoon in his direction, but he rejected it.

“Man,” Courf sighed. “Where does the time go? One minute, you’re taking shots and blacking out in a Walmart, and then you blink, and… you’re old.”

Chetta placed a hand on top of his comfortingly. “You’re too young to be having a mid-life crisis.”

“I’m 31. That’s basically the new sixty. Did you know in medieval times I would be considered a senior citizen?”

“Oh, my god, Courf, you’re fine.” Musichetta set down the spoon and waddled around the island to be next to him and rub his shoulders. “Look, you’re in your old stomping grounds. So… let’s pretend like it’s five years ago. What would you be doing you were five years younger?”

“This is stupid.” Courfeyrac tried to shrug her off.

“No, it’s not. Now, come on. You have been nothing but supportive for me since I’ve been pregnant. And it’s about time I start taking care of my man. So, take me back in time. Paint me a picture. Set the scene.”

After a sigh, Courf turned to look out into the living room. “Well, if it was five years ago, that coffee table wouldn’t be there.”

“Okay…” She took one look at the living room before moving towards it. “What would be there instead?”

“A random door Grantaire found in the dumpster one day.” He smiled at the memory.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “You had a tossed-out door as a coffee table?”

“We were broke and we had just splurged on the dining room table on Grantaire’s insistence. Enjolras was horrified.”

“Yeah, I bet.” She looked down at the coffee table. “What else?”

“Well, if you lift the corner of the rug by your feet,” Courf stood and pointed to the spot on the floor. “You will see the dent in the floor that occurred almost exactly five years ago.”

Musichetta kicked the rub back, not wanting to bend down with her swollen belly. “What happened here?”

“Me and Combeferre were trying to shotput a bowling ball at each other.”

“Wow, that’s so stupid.” She giggled.

“Well, we were really, really drunk at the time. But don’t tell Enjolras. He doesn’t know about it.”

Musichetta nodded and covered up the spot once again. “And what about you? What were you like five years ago?”

“Completely different person.” He shrugged. “Pretty douchey, as you can well imagine.”

She smiled widely and nodded. “I can imagine, yes. You were pretty douchey when we met.”

“Yeah, but you were also kind of harsh to me.”

“You were a douchebag. I stand by my actions.”

“Well, you didn’t make it easy for me, that’s for sure.” He wrapped an arm around her waist, resting the other hand on her belly. “But I guess it worked out in the end.”

Musichetta beamed brightly and felt her hormones kick in. “So, if it was five years ago, and you had somehow convinced me to come home with you… what would be your big move?”

“I don’t think you can handle my moves.” He teased her.

“Bring it, Curly.” They shared a tender kiss before Courf pulled away again. “You know, I’ve seduced a woman in just about every room in this apartment.”

“Wow, great move.” She poked at him sarcastically.

“But there’s only one room where I haven’t… Wanna be my first?”

>>>

It wasn’t long before Grantaire’s flask ran out of booze. But luckily, he had discovered where they had the champagne stashed and had convinced an intern to keep supplying him with the bottles. He had been drinking a lot in a short amount of time. Just watching Jamie half-naked pressed against beautiful people boiled anger inside that he tried to douse with alcohol. But soon it couldn’t be contained.

“Okay, Jamie,” The photographer crouched down the ground, camera in hand. “You are a god who has come to heal these weak mortals with your gentle touch. Give me Jesus on Easter. Let’s go, baby. Perfect!” He started snapping away as the models strewn on the floor around him reached up towards him, Jamie being sure to pout towards the camera. Grantaire stumbled closer to where they were all posing, swaying to an unheard and irregular beat.

“What exactly are we selling here?” He asked loudly. “Is it organized religion? Botox? ‘Cause it certainly ain’t underwear.”

“Sir, you’re going to need to stay quiet.” One of the assistants told him, trying to back him away.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Grantaire said even louder. “Is my voice damaging the still images? Am I breaking these beautiful people’s concentration on looking hot and unattainable?”

“Grantaire,” Jamie seethed at him, sending a warning glare at him. “Knock it off.”

“You knock it off, you sexy bastard.” Grantaire couldn’t contain himself. “You quit being so goddamn perfect and desirable to even douchebags like Brick over there.”

“Brock.” Brock corrected him.

“That’s what I said, Baroque.”

“Okay, get him out of here.” The photographer finally had enough of Grantaire’s drunken antics.

“Hey, I’m an American citizen, right?” He slurred, pushing the assistants away from him. “I will leave when I’m good and ready. And I ain’t ready to leave until my boyfriend is ready to leave with me. That’s right, everybody. He’s screwing me! I’m his new boy toy.”

“Grantaire, stop.” Jamie was not happy with him.

“Agreed.” The photographer motioned to his assistants again. “Throw him out of here.”

“No, I won’t go.” Grantaire tried to dash away but tripped over his own foot. He then fell smack onto the food table, the force causing it to tip over, throwing the inebriated Grantaire a foot away. The models all stood and gasped loudly at the mess. “Did I do that?” He giggled maniacally.

Jamie went over to help Grantaire to his feet, his anger still pouring out of his ears. “Grantaire, go home. Now. You’ve done enough.”

“What about Toni Collette?” He asked, trying to keep his balance on his own two feet.

“Go home, R.” He ordered. “Before you cost me my job.”

He smirked ruefully. “Oh, I get it. I’m a burden. As usual.”

Jamie looked at one of the shocked interns. “Call him a cab, please.” She nodded and pulled out her phone, still stunned at the mess she was going to have to clean up.

“Take a good look, pretty boy.” R gestured sloppily to himself, some food staining his clothes from his fall. “Because this is me. A drunk, messy burden. This is what you’ve signed up for, babe. Drink it in.”

“Nancy, can you please take care of him and make sure he gets in the cab safely?” Jamie told the intern calling the cab. Another rather burly man grabbed Grantaire from Jamie and held him straight up. “I’ll call you later. If I can forgive you.”

>>>

“That car has been with me through thick and thin.” Eponine told Enjolras as they entered the apartment. He had just had to pick her up, after her rust bucket of a car decided to break down. After getting a tow truck to tow it to a mechanic, the damage to fix it was almost worth buying a used car. “Ol’ Harriet and I have seen it all.”

“You named your car?” He asked.

“Yeah, don’t you have a name for your car?”

“No, it’s just my car.”

“Well, that’s boring.” She told him. “I think your car should be named something like Guster or Vernon.”

“Those are terrible names for cars.” He tried to hide his smile from her.

“Well until you come up with a better name, I’m sticking with Guster.” She poked at his stomach playfully. She then looked around the seemingly empty and quiet apartment. “Think anybody’s home?”

“Doesn’t look or sound like it.” Enjolras scanned the room.

“Well, how about a lazy night in?” She suggested. “We slip into pj’s and watch movies. Something to get my mind off the loss of my car.”

“Okay.” He pulled her close and brought his lips to hers. “I’m sorry about your car. We can go looking for a new one tomorrow.”

“Enj, I told you I don’t want to think about that right now.” She groaned. “All I want to do is be lazy and cuddle with you on the couch.”

“Okay, fine.” He kissed her one more time. “I’ll go change out of my ‘monkey suit’ as R likes to call it and you can pick whatever movie you want.”

She brightened up at his suggestion. “ _Any_ movie I want?”

He sighed dramatically. “Yes, it can be a musical.”

Eponine squealed with delight. “I love you!” She quickly rushed to her room to root through her collection of DVDs. Normally, Enjolras hated watching musicals. They were usually very long and not realistic at all. But since Eponine was feeling down, he figured he could allow it. But only one. Shaking his head and smiling to himself, he went to his room to change. But upon opening the door, his eyes fell on a horrid sight.

“Oh, my god!” He yelped and jumped back in fear.

Eponine stuck her head out of her door in alarm. “What? What happened?”

Unable to speak, Enjolras violently shook his head and pointed to his door, the color in his face completely fading away. She followed his gesture to see Courf step through the door. His hair was all askew and he was shirtless, his jeans unbuttoned. “I can explain.”

“Courf? What are you doing in Enj’s room?” She tried to figure out what was happening but had a very bad feeling.

“I’m going to be sick.” Enjolras covered his mouth and kept shaking his head.

“Stop being so dramatic.” Courf told him. At that moment, Chetta stepped behind Courf, wearing Courf’s button up shirt and only his shirt.

“I’m sorry, Enjolras.” She panted.

“Oh, my god.” Eponine finally understood. “Were you two just having sex?”

“Listen, we were…” Courf tried to explain.

“Why?” Enjolras demanded, finally working up the courage to look his friend in the eye. “Why would you do that? In my room?” He felt his gag reflex flair up again, and he covered his mouth.

“I was having a crisis earlier.” Courfeyrac explained.

Chetta slapped him on the chest. “We didn’t think you were going to be home for a while.”

“Why would you do that in his room?” Eponine asked incredulously. “Of all the places in this apartment.”

“It was the one room where I’ve never seduced a woman.” Courf shrugged, like a kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“I will kill you!” Enjolras made a lunge towards Courf, but luckily, Eponine held him back just in time. Chetta also stood in front of Courf protectively.

“Hey, he’s not the only one who agreed to this.” Chetta told him.

“Enj, calm down.” Eponine tried to tell him.

“You are going to pay to have that entire room steam cleaned, you animal!” Enjolras threatened him.

“I was having a crisis, bro!” Courfeyrac defended. “Have a little compassion.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to defile my bedroom!”

“Oh, we defiled it, alright.” Courf told him, challenging him. “And we did it all over your desk, too. Oh, and your precious sock collection? Defiled.”

Eponine wrestled Enjolras back, as they all yelled over each other. Enjolras and Courfeyrac exchanging heated threats, while Eponine and Musichetta tried to calm their guys down, while also trying to calm the other one down. It was a very chaotic and heated scene. So chaotic and heated that no one seemed to notice Grantaire stumbling through the door, being escorted by a stout man. “Hey!” The man shouted, silencing the bickering roommates. “He belong to any of you?” He gestured to the barely conscious Grantaire.

Eponine nodded. “Unfortunately.”

“I belong to nobody!” R declared; his speech very slurred at this point. Enjolras turned his anger towards Grantaire. “Everybody, meet my new best friend, Harold.”

“He puked all over my cab.” Harold informed them angrily, throwing the drunk man to the ground. “Which one of you is going to pay to fix that?”

“I thought we were tight, Harry.” Grantaire whined on the ground.

Enjolras reached into his back pocket to grab his wallet, stepping over his fallen friend. “Where did you find him?”

“I was called by some modelling agency.” Harold shrugged, as Enjolras placed the money in his hands. “I didn’t expect him to puke in my backseat and then sing the entirety of Bohemian Rhapsody very loudly.”

“Oh, come on.” R said, as Eponine was trying to get him upright again. “It’s a classic. And you liked it, admit it. I have the voice of an angel.”

“We’re sorry for any trouble he caused you.” Enjolras stiffly told the man, glaring at his friend.

“Whatever.” Harold gruffly left without any other words exchanged.

“Well, he has a fun vibe.” Courf commented as soon as the man had disappeared through the door.

“Grantaire,” Enjolras stood over him with his hands on his hips. “What is wrong with you? Why must you always have to embarrass me in this way?”

“Enj, that’s not what he needs right now.” Eponine scolded him, as she finally got him to his feet.

“No, he’s right.” Grantaire slurred. “I’m an embarrassment. That’s who I am. I embarrass Jamie. I embarrass the Marble Man. I can’t do anything right.”

Musichetta moved to his side. “That’s not true, R.”

“No, it is.” He insisted, still slurring his speech and looking directly at Enjolras. “I fail all the perfect men in my life. Look me in the eye, Enjolras. And tell me that you’re not disappointed in me.” Enjolras could only stand quietly, setting his jaw.

Eponine glared at him. “Enj, are you serious?”

“No, it’s okay, Ep.” Grantaire told her, while reaching out to pat Enjolras on the shoulder. He missed his shoulder a couple times and tapped the air. “He’s being honest. It’s one of the things I’ve always admired about you, Enj. Thank you.” He then turned to face the girls again. “Alright, I need to go puke before I say anything else I’m gonna regret.”

The ladies helped escort him down the hall to the bathroom. Courf moved to stand next to Enjolras as they both watched after them. “Man, he’s got a lot of issues.” Courfeyrac commented aloud.

Unexpectedly, Enjolras made a fist and slammed it down on Courf’s groin. He let out a painful groan and bent over. “Steam clean my room.”


End file.
